


What He Needs

by TheSinBin87



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - Never Met, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Angst, Coming Untouched, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 21,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25765045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSinBin87/pseuds/TheSinBin87
Summary: 30 year old Rhett and 29 year old Link have never met. Once they do, it will be hard to stay apart. Link's dark past is an obstacle, but Rhett's patience makes him unlike anyone Link has ever met . . . Almost like he can trust this man
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 84
Kudos: 105





	1. Alley

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning! Mention of firearm, description of anxiety attack.

Staring down the barrel of a gun, Link shoved trembling fingers into his pockets, emptying them onto the ground, pulling contents out indiscriminately. His wallet and change were what he knew the mugger was after, but the click of a complimentary diner mint and the clack of a chapstick tube added some dimension to this tiny symphony of terror paced by ragged breaths of fear. The mugger snatched up the wallet and abandoned the rest, bolting. He was gone so fast, a single coin was still rolling when Link realized he was alone again. That fast? Really? Link’s mind rushed to cope by questioning the reality of what had just happened. Tried to label it impossible. Imagined, surely. He sunk to the ground, forgetting how heavily he was leaning against the brick wall. Not that he felt the scrape he put on his back . . . but he would tomorrow. He needed to stop hyperventilating. Clutching his knees to his chest wasn’t helping. He felt everything that came with crying but the tears themselves. Nearly choking on his own breath, he stared at the mint on the ground. Tried to use the single point of focus to calm the anxiety attack. An old auto-pilot mantra played in his mind _“It’s okay, I’m okay, It’s over, I’m done, It’s okay, issokay, sokay, okay . . .”_ His breathing slowed. His vision sharpened. Then immediately blurred. Ah, the tears are here, that’s progress . . . at least part of him has realized he’s safe now. Safe enough to breathe. To weep. To notice that the mint is broken, remember when it was whole, and wonder how long it would sit in that exact spot looking like mere trash instead of evidence. His scalp and fingers tingled. As he realized how tense his muscles were, he made the conscious effort to relax them. He dropped his head into his hands heavily and sobbed.

The tension returned when he heard footsteps coming towards him at a trot.

Rhett had thrown on a shirt and left his apartment in a terrible combo of the sweats he’d been wearing for three days straight and flip flops. He hadn’t even glanced at a mirror – though no power on this earth could’ve kept him from running his hands through his hair repeatedly on his way down the stairs. He headed to the convenience store two blocks away with a one track mind. An advertisement for jerky on the television had given him a merciless craving with only one solution. He couldn’t even wait until he got back to his apartment to tear into the snack. He smiled at the sweet teriyaki scent, lifted a piece to his mouth, and stopped mid-stride when a figure came sprinting out of an alley. Dressed in black, face covered, and . . . was that a gun? Rhett stayed frozen for a moment until the mysterious figure was out of sight. He looked around the empty streets. Too late for many bystanders, he figures – but was there a victim in that alley? A cop? A body? He could keep his distance and call 911 . . . but the curiosity was overpowering, much like his need for immediate jerky. He slowly approached the corner. Peeked tentatively. It just had to be so dang dark down there, didn’t it? Maybe he should just walk the rest of the way home and call the police from inside. Then he heard the sobbing.

Almost involuntarily, he found himself trotting down the alley towards the pitiful sound.


	2. Mint?

When Rhett sees the man sobbing on the ground, his instincts battle. Speed up to help him as soon as possible, or slow down so as not to startle him? He doesn’t arrive at a decision until he sees the man’s shoulders tense. Rhett slows to a walk and the man on the ground looks up at him. Rhett thinks he’s probably more shocked by those eyes than the man is of Rhett’s presence. A startling piercing blue that Rhett can’t swear isn’t giving off its own light. Wide, wet, and bloodshot from fear and tears. Protected but enhanced behind dark framed glasses. Rhett is used to doing anything he can to avoid appearing intimidating, given his 6’7” frame. He sits on the ground about six feet from the trembling traumatized man. Not kneeling or crouching for a quick exit. Not bending down and towering over the stranger. Sitting. Cross legged. He rests his elbows on his knees, gently touches his thumbs together, and leans forward.

“Hey, man . . . do you need me to call 911 for you?”

The man looked suddenly defeated. He shook his head, broke eye contact, and stared at a broken mint on the ground between them.

“How about a cab . . . or a friend?”

A more subtle shake of the head. Eyes distant, but still aimed at the mint.

Rhett grabs the mint and holds it up, smiling, “Breath mint?”

The man’s eyebrows tent in mild amusement. Rhett can tell he’s being seen for the first time since he arrived in the alley. His smile warms. The blue eyed stranger releases his knees from his grasp and seems to relax just enough. Rhett’s use of humor as a coping mechanism is never a choice. And almost never actually all that humorous. While Blue is looking at him, he opens the wrapper of the broken mint and with a tone of childlike pettiness, says, “Too late, s’mine now,” and pops both halves in his mouth. He feels his chest swell with pride when he spots the corner of Blue’s mouth quirk up the tiniest bit. Before he can beam too embarrassingly, his nose crinkles.

“Ugh . . . oh, wow, I forgot already,” Rhett fishes the jerky out of his sweats pocket and shows Blue the package, “I only had, like, one piece . . . still . . . NOT a good combo!” Instead of spitting out the mint, Rhett chews it and swallows it to get rid of it. Blue’s lips aren’t smiling, but his eyes are. Rhett decides to try again.

“What do you need?”

“I gotta pee.”

Rhett works not to laugh. Blue looks surprised that he said it out loud.

“Well, there’s a convenience store one block that way, my apartment is one block this way . . . or I could just . . .” Rhett looks around the alley, “give you some privacy.”

“Don’t go.” Blue’s voice is small and Rhett wants to hug him.

“Hey, no problem.”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure. Ready to go?” Rhett didn’t want to rush Blue, but Blue looked like he just realized how badly he wanted to be out of the alley and away from the scene of the crime. He nodded and climbed to his feet. Rhett followed, scooping up a tube of chapstick and holding it up, “is this –” Blue was nearly twelve feet away already. Rhett pocketed the tube and took long strides to catch up.


	3. Tea?

Link flushed the stranger’s toilet, already feeling better. He looked at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. A pleasant scent of the unusual combination of wood and berries wafted up from the suds. He watched himself take a deep breath. Let the water run idly over his clean hands, enjoying the warmth. He needed more warmth in his life. He was new in town. New apartment, new job, new life. And yet after a month, his apartment hadn’t felt like home. His coworkers didn’t feel like friends. His hands trembled from fresh trauma. But this stranger . . . this gentle giant . . . had plopped down on the pavement with him, sitting crisscross-applesauce like they were meeting in first grade instead of in a dangerous alley, and eaten something off the ground while he waited for Link to gather himself. Think . . . what did he say? 911 . . . he saw the mugger. Then . . . did he say his name? Ask for Link’s? He asked what Link needed. No one does that. People can be nice enough to offer what they think you need, but they never just ask. No one except for his mama had ever just asked him what he needed. No wonder he had been caught so off-guard that he answered honestly. And now he was in the giant’s home. Using his soft hand towel. What bachelor has soft hand towels and pleasantly fragrant soap? Link panicked a little. He’d reached his quota on strangers and didn’t fancy explaining his situation to the giant’s live-in girlfriend. His eyes darted to the toothbrush holder. One. He didn’t bother to examine each individual layer of his relief.

Link stepped out of the bathroom and into the living room. His tired muscles clenched at the sound of a clatter from the kitchen. He wanted to sit on the cozy looking couch and just take a moment to relax, but he felt like an intruder. He should probably just leave . . . would it be too embarrassing to ask the giant to walk him home? He was only four blocks away on the other side of the park. He stepped into the kitchen doorway and spotted a kettle over a flame. The giant turned to him. Link opened his mouth to thank the giant, but was speechless. His psyche decided that speech was suddenly less important than processing the face of his host. Such a well kept beard with the subtle shine of oil. Harshly expressive eyebrows over gently ambiguous eyes. What color is that? Gray-clouded green? The giant broke the silence.

“Tea?”

“Thank you.”

“Sure. It’ll be a few. I’ll bring it out. What do you want in it?”

“Honey and lemon?”

“Uhhh . . . I don’t . . . y’know what, I’ll bet I can make it to the convenience store and back before this boils. They probably don’t have lemons, but maybe they have lemon juice, just gimme –” the giant was just about to brush past Link on his way out of the kitchen.

“Oh, no, just honey is fine, sorry.”

The giant stopped his rushed lemon quest and looked down at Link from less than a foot away. Up close, the height difference would have been overwhelmingly intimidating if the giant hadn’t been looking at Link with his head cocked in confusion and a slow smile spreading across his face.

“For what?”

“The . . . tea.”

The giant chuckled. It was soft and sweet and higher pitched than Link would have expected. “No, what are you sorry for?”

“Oh . . . I –” Link paused, searching for the honest answer, “being too high-maintenance, I guess. I don’t need lemon.”

“Well, first of all, lemon in tea is not high maintenance. Secondly, a preference is no reason to apologize. And I’d be happy to go pick something up.”

“Stay.” The request came out softer and warmer than when he’d asked the giant not to leave him alone in the alley, but the sentiment was similar. No tea preference was worth being alone right now. Besides, it was the giant that felt safe right now. Not his home. The giant’s face visibly softened. Gray-green eyes darted between Link’s. For a fraction of a second, Link thought the giant might lean in for a kiss, but the soft and seemingly intimate gaze broke into an expression of delight.

“Oh! I have lemon ginger tea instead of earl grey! How’s that?” All at once, the giant was out of Link’s personal space, digging through a cabinet that was somehow eye-level, the space he once occupied swirling from his exit and sending his unique scent right to Link’s nose.

“Thank you.” Link hoped the giant could hear in his voice that he was thanking him for more than the tea. And couldn’t hear how flustered he was.


	4. Chapstick?

Rhett heard Blue sigh heavily after sinking into the couch. Poor guy probably got more out of having a proper seat than he’d get out of the tea. But Rhett wanted him to stick around at least long enough to make sure he’d be okay. He shuffled mugs and tea and made sure Blue’s mug was blue, so he wouldn’t mix anything up. Lemon ginger for Blue, earl grey for himself. Honey for both. He stared at the kettle. Should he offer some kind of snack? Jerky seemed . . . like a weird thing to offer someone over tea. He didn’t have much in the fridge. The café where he played would sometimes give him a bag of pastries or scones, but he’d had the last one this morning. When the kettle started to whistle, he snatched it up immediately before it could get loud enough to disturb his neighbors or his adrenaline-infused guest. He filled the mugs, stirred some honey into each, and carried them out into the living room. Blue was eyeing up the guitar propped in the corner before he heard Rhett enter and spun his head to focus on him instead. Rhett wondered if he played. If now was even the time to get to know Blue. He’d like to. But right now had to be about what Blue wanted, not him. He can’t imagine what Blue had been through. If the mugger had struck him, how he’d threatened him, if he’d cocked that gun in his face . . .

“Here ya go, -” Rhett almost called the stranger Blue out loud. That wouldn’t have been incriminating at all. Blue? Why Blue? Well, stranger, I’ve been calling you that in my head because your eyes are so strikingly beautiful that they are what define you for me rather than the fact that I found you in a sobbing, quivering pile of trauma in an alley. Here’s your blue mug, promise I’m not an obsessive creep. Rhett nearly scoffed out loud at himself. He needed a name before he humiliated himself. After settling onto the couch at a respectful distance from Blue and setting his tea gently on the coffee table to steep, he looked over and smiled.

“I’m Rhett, by the way.” Blue looked him over like he was assessing how well the name fit him . . . and appeared to ultimately approve.

“I’m Link.” How perfect.

“Do you want to – . . . is there anything you need?” Rhett thought talking through what happened might help Bl– Link, but didn’t want to push it. He might need time. Or, y’know, someone who’s not a complete stranger. Link seemed to have a glimmer of awe in his eyes. Like he was barely able to believe Rhett gave a shit. As if Rhett hadn’t clearly wanted to help in any way possible from the second he spotted Link.

“Yeah . . . probably. Don’t really know what yet, though.”

“Well, if I can help –”

“I need a new driver’s license,” Link’s voice was bitter and cut into Rhett’s good spirit, “Gotta cancel a few cards. Pick up more chapstick.”

“Oh!” Rhett dug into his pocket, pulled out the jerky, and set it on the table. Link looked equally confused and frustrated. With the jerky out of the way, Rhett was able to reach the chapstick he’d retrieved from the alley. He proudly held the tube out to Link, “I thought this might have been yours!”

“Oh, gosh, thank you! I didn’t even think to . . .” he laughed nervously, “Thank goodness my keys are clipped to my belt loop!” Link lifted his shirt just enough to flash a modest set of keys – no car? He shouldn’t be walking around town for a while – and a sliver of pale skin. Rhett felt teased. Such a small and fleeting peek. Link plucked the tube from Rhett’s paralyzed fingers and Rhett busied himself with his first sip of tea, silently scolding himself. Gorgeous or not, sexual interest wasn’t what Link needed right now. Even if another man was . . . his cup of tea. Rhett needed to be more sensitive! A sip and a deep breath later, he had his wits about him once more and looked back at Link with a smile. Which immediately faltered. As he watched Link drag a glistening layer of chapstick onto . . . holy shit, he’d been so swept up in those eyes, how did he manage to miss such perfectly luscious lips? Especially when they’re that delicate shade of pink? A pulse of interest shot through Rhett’s cock. _Fuck_. He can’t get hard in sweats and expect it not to be obvious. He focused on his tea again. Closed his eyes as though he were savoring the sip and pictured . . . shit, he can’t think of anything but Link right now, okay, Link when he found him. Frightened and upset. He embraced the unpleasant ache the image brought him. His cock lost interest.

Wow. That was too close for comfort. Guess it’s been a while. He’s gonna have to be mindful of where his thoughts wander off to.


	5. Goodbye

Link rubbed his lips together, evening the layer of chapstick he’d applied. The whole ritual had been oddly calming in its familiarity. Felt unusually indulgent as he’d done it. Hopefully he hadn’t made himself look like a weirdo with a chapstick fetish. He capped and pocketed the tube, and looked over at Rhett. His eyes were closed. He swallowed a sip of tea and opened them, but wasn’t looking at Link.

“Thanks, Rhett. For everything.”

“No problem.” Rhett turned to him and smiled. And then his eyes flickered down to Link’s lips for only a split second, but there was no mistaking what he saw. Or what it meant, judging by the deep red creeping across Rhett’s neck and behind his ear. God, Rhett was handsome. Link wished he could kiss him. Maybe not right now when Rhett only knew him as a shaken up victim, and when Link himself probably wasn’t thinking straight, but someday. He considered it for a moment. What if it weren’t cruel to kiss Rhett when he wouldn't know it could only be a tease? Or what if – Rhett seemed so caring – what if he wouldn’t mind Link’s limits? Link had to chuckle to himself. Rhett must have really done a number on him to have him looking for some kind of loophole. But he’d thought this through long before there was a specific man and the math just didn’t work. Link was damaged goods. And the amount of patience and sacrifice he’d need could only come from someone too good to deserve being stuck with him.

“What’s funny?”

“Hell of a day.” Link shook his head.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Rhett placed a warm hand on Link’s shoulder. It made him smile. Relaxed him. And the wave of exhaustion hit.

“I’ll be fine. Head home, let the adrenaline crash knock me out. Maybe call in sick in the morning and take a three day weekend. Get my cards replaced.” Link took bigger sips of his tea, now that he felt it had come time to leave.

“I’ll walk you home.” Rhett’s voice was so kind and genuine.

“It’s late and I only live on the other side of the park.” No need to make this last any longer than it had to.

“Both great reasons to walk you home.” Above Rhett’s stubborn gaze, one eyebrow was cocked.

“Right . . . ready?” Link stood, abandoning about a third of his tea.

“I’m ready if you are . . .” Rhett’s tone was clear. Concerned that he’d done something wrong. Hurt by the abrupt departure. By expectations unmet. It only made Link stronger. More certain. 

“Yep!” He smiled.

Rhett stood, rattled his keys in his pocket, and headed for the door.

Come to think of it, this was better. Rhett walking him home. Aside from the primary benefit of feeling safer, Rhett was going to make a move. Link could feel it. Apparently, his building was very newly open to tenants, so Rhett had figured out that Link was new to the area and was taking the opportunity of the shared walk to point out all the best spots. Which burger place was better, which bar, how satisfying that café’s pastries are . . . any second now, he’d be asking for a date. Or perhaps more subtly offering to “show him around sometime.” It was important to shut Rhett down sooner rather than later. Not just to spare Rhett . . . but himself. He didn’t want to lose his resolve and give into the temptation of believing he’d found someone with whom he could make a relationship work. He would just dodge a kiss or deny a phone number and not have to think about any of this again. He turned to Rhett and smiled brightly when they arrived at the front of his building.

“I really appreciate you walking me home, Rhett. And thanks again for having me over for a bit to decompress.”

“Is that what you call it?” Rhett’s smile was charming and proud.

“Well, that too,” Link laughed, “I did really have to go and I’m not about to touch any surfaces in a convenience store bathroom.”

“I don’t blame you, man. Now get some decent rest. And you really should report what happened. It’s not common around here.”

Link kept his expression steady. Kept his honesty to himself this time and nodded. Better to let Rhett think he’d report what happened than to explain why he _knew_ there was no point in reporting it. No one wants to hear how anyone learned the hard way that the cops don’t give a rat’s ass.

Rhett’s ass, however . . . was a pleasant sight for Link, even though he’d been disappointed to see him turn and leave without any sort of proposition. Disappointed because he wanted the opportunity to make a clean break, not . . . not because he would’ve done anything about it.

Not even a phone number?


	6. Alone

When Rhett was home again, he sighed heavily. Link had shut down. He tried not to take it personally, given what Link had just been through, but for a while there it had really seemed like he’d found so much comfort in Rhett’s company. Then he left before he’d even finished his tea. Whatever happened, Rhett knew that his best chance of seeing Link again was to let him leave without pressuring him with plans to meet again. For all he knew, Link was straight. Or never wanted to see a face associated with the mugging again. Rhett was happy enough letting fate decide. Especially since that made it sound like it would be a good sign if they ran into each other again, and living in the same neighborhood made those chances pretty good. Rhett washed the mugs they’d left out. The blue one had nothing on the brilliance of Link’s eyes, but he still figured that it would remind him of Link for quite some time. The water beaded up on one small area of the rim . . . on the residue from the freshly applied chapstick. Link’s hands were steady by the time he’d brought Rhett’s attention to those lips. By that point, Rhett was the anxious one. He remembered the beautiful shape, the perfect color, the glimmer of moisture. The abnormally sharp tip of a canine peeking out. He wonders . . . what would take the spotlight if those sharp teeth and decadent lips teamed up on the soft flesh of his neck? He entertained the idea instead of shutting it down, with no one around to spot the tent his sweatpants formed. By the time he finished washing the mugs, he was achingly hard. He headed toward the bedroom with his overactive imagination spinning intricate webs of fantasy. What kinds of noises Link might make if Rhett were to lick or nibble at just the right spot. How much it would take to hear him whimper Rhett’s name. Maybe that subtle southern accent would get thicker when his head was clouded with arousal. Rhett pulled lube out of a drawer under his bedside table. He stripped quickly and unceremoniously before laying out on the bed and settling into a comfy position. He drizzled lube onto his erection. Pity his needy, desperate head was flushed a few shades too dark to be reminiscent of Link’s lips . . . but he imagines them on him. Soft and warm . . . the perfect introduction to his hot wet mouth. Rhett tries to stroke slowly. He’d like to make this last. It’s been a good while since he’s been able to picture a specific man. But it’s so much. His hips buck up into his hand at the thought of looking down into icy blue eyes, his cock completely enveloped in Link’s mouth, sexy lips stretched around his girth. “Ffffuuuck,” he breathes. He’s deaf to his own whimpers and whines which aren’t half as loud as they’d need to be, to be heard over the erotic images flashing through his mind of what he’s decided – now that he thinks about it – is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He trails his thumb over a gathering of precum and spreads it over the rest of his head. It’s a gentle sweep, but it whispers sweet nothings to all the right nerve endings, and his balls tighten, threatening an early finale. He pulls his hand away. His heavy swollen member smacks against his abdomen, suddenly neglected after getting so close. He bets Link is a fucking tease. Imagines a mischievous smile aimed at his protesting hips rutting up against nothing. He lowers a slick finger to his hole. Two quick circles and he dips inside himself. Crooks his long finger and his prostate sends what feels like dull electricity out in every direction. His cock twitches. He’s panting, “Fuck yesss . . .” he adds a second finger and lets his other hand roam up his own torso. He hopes Link would fuck him in such a way that he could face him . . . and tease his nipples with his tongue and teeth. Shit, like that. He pinches and rolls one nipple. Two fingers hitting his prostate just right, like Link’s cock might. Then the other nipple. His neglected cock can’t hold out anymore, “Unnghh fuck! _Link!_ Fill me!” He clenches rhythmically around his own fingers as his untouched cock bounces in time with the thick hot ropes of cum that explode onto his chest. Moans fade to whimpers, fade to sighs, and before long, Rhett pants quietly, reaching for a tissue. Uh, well, two. He can’t remember the last time he came so hard by his own hand. But in all fairness, it wasn’t his hand that deserved credit.

In the morning, all he can remember about what he dreamt is the color blue.


	7. Coffee?

Two weeks later, things were back to normal. Without a car, Link was in no particular rush to get his driver’s license replaced, even though he’d had the urge once or twice to stop into a bar. But with a new wallet, loaded with his replacement license and replacement cards, he felt that there weren’t any lose ends left to gnaw at him. Well, negative loose ends. He didn’t count Rhett. Missing Rhett didn’t remind him of that creep waving a gun in his face, it just reminded him of . . . Rhett. Which reminded him . . . something about delicious pastries? He could really go for an afternoon coffee and something with blueberries in it right about now. Link set out to try that café Rhett had recommended. It was a lovely Saturday afternoon and he couldn’t think of any better way to spend it than on a breezy patio with caffeine and carbs. It was a shorter walk than he remembered and he was quickly within earshot of the music playing inside. Yep, we have a winner. Any place that chose to play Merle Haggard was a place for him. Too many people in this world wouldn’t even recognize the name. As he got closer, he realized it was a cover he was hearing. Whatever got his music out there, Link supposed. It wasn’t a bad cover. Still made him smile. Still warmed his homesick heart. He opened the glass door to the café, and goodness, it may be a good choice of music, but why so loud? He spotted the live singer once he stepped inside. Link absolutely beamed. He’d spotted Rhett’s guitar in his apartment, but had no idea how good he’d be. And how amazing his voice was. Like smooth dark honey. The patio . . . seemed a little TOO breezy today. Besides, there were plenty of available tables in here. Link ordered, took a table marker, sat at a high-top two seater against the wall, and waited for his nitro and blueberry muffin. It must have been no more than two minutes before a server was dropping off his items and retrieving his table marker. Any other day he’d have asked why he couldn’t have just waited at the counter for his items, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Rhett. An excitement was building in him to see how Rhett might react when he realized Link was watching him perform. About halfway through the second song since Link had been seated, Rhett looked directly at him. His eyes swept away before darting back in a subtle double-take Link was sure only he had noticed. He couldn’t say the same for the moment Rhett dropped his pick and had to switch to using his fingers in a slightly clumsy transition. Link giggled. He couldn’t help it. Fortunately, Rhett only smiled brightly in return. Good. Link would have hated to offend him. Picking noncommittally at his muffin, Link carefully watched Rhett’s fingers work. Long. Skillful. Flowing. So precise. Link shifted in his seat, jeans growing tighter. He can’t recall being so affected by anyone before. Not like this. Pulled from a normal day into the depths of arousal without a fight. Why was Rhett different?

Another song ended, and a café employee approached Rhett, but stopped in her tracks when Rhett held up a single finger. One more? Is Rhett about to finish up? Maybe Link should buy him a drink. Return the favor of that tea. And everything that surrounded it. Well, there wasn’t anything good enough here to return the favor of anything but the tea. Still . . . he should . . . he hoped Rhett would greet him, sit with him . . . forgive him? Had he been harsh? Nnno . . . cold? His eyes fell to his fingers. He tugged gingerly at the wrapper around the bottom of his muffin. Rhett began playing. Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain. Link looked up. Caught Rhett’s eyes. Rhett held his gaze and smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes for a few seconds. Once it did, it was instantly contagious. Link felt himself blush. And shifted in his seat again.

Rhett finished up and collected his things. Link tried not to stare _too_ much. His heart raced as Rhett approached the table, but he didn’t sit.

“Hey, Link, how have you been?”

“Not bad . . . better now! I knew it would be a good idea to mix up my weekend routine, but I had no idea I’d catch you showing off your skills . . . your voice is _amazing_ , man!”

“Thanks, I’m glad you caught me. Caught me a little off-guard, but still.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I saw you try to throw me your pick . . . as an adoring fan . . . but I have terrible reflexes.” Link grinned and gave Rhett a subtle wink. Rhett laughed and shifted his weight.

“Well, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Hey, can I buy you a coffee? I never got you back for that night. Promise I’m better company these days.” Link bounced his leg nervously. He wasn’t exactly being as careful as he should be. Winking and promising good company . . . is he about to be on a date with Rhett?

“Right, because last time you were such a little shit not opening up to one stranger after being attacked by another one . . .”

“Well, you’re not a stranger anymore, are you?”

“Stranger than you.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“I don’t wanna do coffee this late in the day, but I’ll take a lavender Italian soda.”

“Wow. Really? Or are you just trying to make a point?”

“Yeah, really!” Rhett laughed. Loudly. He seemed so relaxed. Link wondered if his laugh would have sounded quite so musical if he hadn’t just heard him singing.

Link ordered Rhett’s soda and the barista waved his hand away from the table markers, assuring him she knew where it was going. Must be a regular order of their resident musician. A man of unusual taste . . . seems promising. Maybe it really is time to stop fighting intimacy . . . at least for long enough to let Rhett decide whether he’s willing to give Link a shot.


	8. Wait

Link seemed like an entirely different person. Rhett had been ecstatic to see him when he looked up from his music and landed in his eyes, but he would have done more than drop his pick if _this_ had been the person he was missing. Sapphire eyes, bright and joyful, smiling a genuine smile, toothy and crooked, quick wit, but just as quick to laugh at Rhett’s stupid jokes. His favorite was the laugh that came with a crinkled nose, a cocked head, and a dip of the chin. Fucking adorable.

They joked, they people watched, they learned about each other. They seemed to discover a beautiful rhythm. Rhett thought it was hard to say goodbye last time . . . this time would gut him. Even if he got Link’s number. Or a second date. Second, right? This was a date, surely . . . right? On one hand, it had been hours of chat at a two person table in a sweet little café and Link had seemed almost as reluctant to take his eyes off of Rhett as Rhett was to lose sight of Link. But on the other hand . . . had they touched? At all? Not even a hug or a handshake when they saw each other for the first time in two weeks. Not that they were best buds after that one night of bullshit, but they both seemed so pleased to see the other. Rhett had to know where he stood. He reached across the table to where Link was fidgeting with his folded up muffin wrapper and tucked his index finger and middle finger under Link’s hand and swept his thumb over his knuckles from index to pinky.

“I can _see_ ,” he gently pressed his thumb into the space between the first and second knuckles and stroked, “the tension in your knuckles,” now between the second and third, “when you fidget like that,” third and fourth. Link’s skin was warm and soft and Rhett was basking in the satisfaction of touching him . . . but his hand was still. He looked up at Link. Link looked back, but not with the spirit he’d had all afternoon, and he spoke quietly,

“What time is it?” Classic. Oh, look at the time, I must be going. Please don’t fake it, just rip off the bandaid.

“Time for me to back off, apparently.” Rhett pulled away from Link. He had no sour attitude in his voice. In fact, he smiled. I mean, it is kinda funny, when you think about it, letting yourself start to fall for someone before you even find out if it’s okay to touch their hand . . .

“Wait!” Oh, now, here’s something. Rhett could work with this.

“Okay.” He smiled. And did nothing else. Kept his hands to himself. Made no assumptions. Only obeyed. Waited. Which Link seemed completely unprepared for. He looked surprised. Then . . . rushed. In a hurry to come up with some kind of explanation.

“Um . . .” Link fidgeted again. Rhett blinked. Silly boy, he had all the time in the world. Why would he feel under pressure? Rhett was waiting.

“Take your time.”

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“No, I really- you’re so . . .” Link’s hands gently trembled.

“No pressure, Blue.” Rhett smiled softly. Link stilled. He locked eyes with Rhett and the wave of serenity was visible.

“I know.”

“That means self-inflicted pressure too.” Link smiled. It looked genuine. And relieved.

“Rhett . . . I want –”

“Stop.” Link did. Looking slightly hurt. “What do you _need_?” The hurt melted away and somber epiphany took Link’s face.

“I need to tell you something.”


	9. Something

They had relocated. This was a private discussion. Link sat in his spot on Rhett’s couch, staring at the same blue mug with tea, honey, and a fresh wedge of lemon. Rhett had been prepared to take care of him. Even though there’d been no guarantee he’d ever be back here. Rhett cared. He was patient. Link could handle this. He wanted to touch Rhett. Be touched by him. Be intimate with him. But he couldn’t face the journey alone. Rhett had to know what Link needed to overcome. Or even his saint-like patience would give out. And Link realized that this could be it. Rhett could be his only shot. He couldn’t risk losing that by withholding who he was. As he thought through this, Rhett was next to him. Sitting quietly. Patiently. Not even looking at him. Giving Link time and space to gather himself. Bless him. He’s what Link needs. Link needs Rhett.

“I’ve never . . . been sexually intimate with anyone . . .” Rhett looked at Link, “. . . voluntarily.”

Link can see what Rhett meant now. The flex of skin and tendons around Rhett’s knuckles as he fidgeted with the tag on the tea sachet portrayed such tension. Link worried if he’d made Rhett uncomfortable. He sought out his eyes . . . and found storms. Rhett’s anger was damn near tangible. But he remained still. Granted, his neck was . . . wow . . . getting redder and redder. But he wasn’t going to interrupt Link. Problem was, Link didn’t know how to continue. He’d never told anyone this. Even his own mama.

“My first stepfather . . .” okay, that’s enough of that. Link wasn’t about to relive the details. The point is . . . what’s the point? Link looked at his hands, wringing in his lap “I . . . I want to have a good experience. I know I can. I mean, I think I should be able to . . . but I don’t . . . I don’t know what I need . . . to keep it on track, um, I mean, to keep- to make it- . . . but I think I need you.”

Link looked up. Rhett’s anger was gone and a post-storm moisture had gathered in his eyes. He was still waiting patiently for Link to finish. Silently riding a roller coaster of emotions that were all too apparent to Link and only showed him that he’d made the right decision. Rhett felt so strongly for Link. In a selfless way. Link had never felt more hope in his life. Never been faced with such a beautiful horizon, his for the taking.

The silence stretched. Link was lost in Rhett’s eyes. He’d said what he needed to. He was done. But he wasn’t about to ask Rhett to speak.

An escaped tear rolled onto Rhett’s cheek. Link reached out slowly, rested his palm against Rhett’s beard, and brushed away the tear with his thumb. He savored the surprisingly soft texture of Rhett’s facial hair and skin. Then, fixated on the wet trail of sadness, leaned in close. He paused inches away, thinking through a decision he was pretending he hadn’t already made. Then he leaned farther, and kissed the spot from which he’d removed the tear. Rhett’s face was so warm against his lips. And being this close filled his nose with a scent he hadn’t consciously known he’d memorized . . . only now, it’s stronger. Closer. He inhaled deeply and slid his hand to the back of Rhett’s neck, discovering even more warmth. Link felt the tickle of breath on his jaw when Rhett cooed, “Can I hold ya, Blue?”

Link nuzzled between Rhett’s neck and shoulder, “Please.” He’d have begged if he didn’t know a single word was all he needed.

Rhett encircled Link in his arms. Tentatively for a single second, and then securely. His left arm around Link’s waist, and his right at a diagonal on his back, palm against his right shoulder blade. For a while, they sat like this. Link could feel miniscule fluctuations in the pressure from Rhett’s fingertips. He heard Rhett sniffle, and without a second thought, placed a reassuring peck right on his pulse point before nuzzling back in. Rhett sighed heavily and squeezed before letting go.

“Thank you for telling me.” That . . . didn’t sound good . . .

“Are you still . . . interested?” Link’s anxiety had his hope on the ropes. Rhett had looked . . . shaken.

“The only thing that’s changed is how well I know you. And the better I know you, the better chances I have at not screwing this up.”

Link’s jaw dropped just enough to part his lips. What? Rhett was worried about screwing this up? Wait . . . is there a ‘this’ to screw up? “Rhett . . . are . . . was that a date?”

Rhett smirked, “I believe that’s up to the participants. Gotta be unanimous, though. You in?”

“Only if it’s not tacky to commit to a second date immediately after the first.” Link couldn’t help the coy grin. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to spend a _lot_ more time with Rhett.

“Well, it’s not over yet, I haven’t walked you home like a proper gentleman. It’s dark out. But, uh . . . nah. It’s only tacky to commit to a second date _before_ the first. Right after, or uh, during . . . is totally fine. Have something in mind?”

“Do you like bowling?”

Rhett beamed.


	10. Goodnight

They talked for a little while longer. Rhett felt it was an important palate cleanser. He needed Link to know that he wasn’t scared off, but he also wanted to make sure that their evening ended on a better note. He did his best not to look at Link any differently, but he caught himself seeing bravery and strength in every smile and laugh. He’d need some time to process. Figure out how to be what Link needed without coddling him or being condescending. And without winding up in prison for tracking down and eviscerating the piece of shit that hurt him. Sympathy and anger is a duet for a minor key and he didn’t want that kind of soundtrack for their budding relationship.

This time when he walked Link home, it was after the tea was gone and the mugs washed. They walked slower this time, enjoying each other’s company. Side by side, Link on his left, their hands occasionally brushing. Such seemingly insignificant contact that was absolutely electrifying after that afternoon when touching Link’s hand had paralyzed him and almost ended their day. Date. Their date. Rhett smiled. The weight of Link’s unveiled past aside, today had been a good day. The best in a while, actually.

When they arrived at Link’s apartment building, they faced each other. It could have been the lousy lighting, but Link looked tired.

“See you Friday . . . thanks, Rhett.”

“G’night, Blue.”

Link smiled the littlest bit, “Why Blue?”

Rhett smiled bigger, “You know why.”

He knew Link just wanted to hear him say it. And he was willing to give Link what he needed, but what he wanted? He’d have to work a little for that. There’s no fun in games made too easy.

Link smirked, held Rhett’s gaze, stepped in close, rose to his tiptoes, and put his arms around Rhett’s neck. He probably had somewhere between one and two seconds to process the incoming goodnight kiss, but it felt like much longer. The collision of Link’s plush lips with his own was so overwhelming he could have cried. Because it wasn’t just about finally getting a taste of what he’d been thirsting for over the past fortnight, it was about Link wanting and trusting Rhett enough to cross a line that he knew couldn’t have been easy to cross. Initially, it did feel rather like the automated momentum of someone closing their eyes running across hot coals, but then Link pulled away, looked Rhett in the eye, looked at his lips, and came back for more. This kiss was softer. More instinct than thought. Rhett lost himself in it and stopped analyzing Link’s side of things. Lifted his hand and threaded his fingers through Link’s hair. It was thick and soft and held quite a bit of heat close to the roots. Rhett let his fingernails drag lightly over Link’s scalp in the brief journey to the back of his head. The whimper he inspired changed the kiss entirely. Rhett’s heart hammered when their tongues met. Link had good taste. That hint of lemon really did make a difference. He slipped his free hand down to the small of Link’s back. Big mistake. The second he felt those sexy lower back dimples, his hard on went from lazily half mast to _full speed ahead_. He returned a whimper, but his was slightly gruffer. After their tongues had thoroughly explored each other, Link pulled back. Hands landing on Rhett’s shoulders, then trailing down his chest sneaking in one more second of contact. The brush to Rhett’s nipple could have been an intentional tease, but he couldn’t tell. Someday he’d be able to read Link’s expression through the veil of arousal, but for now, the heavy lidded, swollen lipped man with a slight flare to his nostrils and severely dilated pupils was practically a stranger. Rhett wouldn’t be able to tell mischief from fear on that face. Yet.

“G’night, Rhett.” Link pulled open the front door to his apartment building, stopped, and looked back at Rhett. “Who’s blue now?” Link stuck out his tongue and winked, disappearing into his building.

That little shit.


	11. Different

Link was breathing heavily as he closed his door behind him. None of it was from the stairs. Only half of it was from anxiety. The anxiety of falling off the edge into something he wasn’t sure he was ready for. He hadn’t wanted to stop. He hadn’t even meant to tease Rhett as much as he did. Although, after seeing the look on Rhett’s face after he’d played it off as intentional . . . next time, it would be. Link undid his jeans in a hurry to give himself the room he needed and ease the discomfort. The moan-sigh hybrid that filled the room sounded foreign. This was a need. But this time . . . it wasn’t a chore. The pressure within him was begging. And only in the context of Rhett. Every sensation he’d just experienced replayed almost involuntarily in his mind. He palmed himself through his boxer briefs. Felt a patch of moisture. He shed everything from the waist down. Shoes. So– _woah_ , careful – socks. Jeans. Boxer briefs. Left them right on the floor. He was in a hurry. That was new too. He fell into his usual routine to get the job done, regardless of how different this time somehow felt. Standing in the bathroom. Door closed, even though he lived alone. Aimed over the sink for quick and easy cleanup. And the medicine cabinet open. An efficient detail that simultaneously allowed access to his lotion and kept him from having to look at himself. Two pumps of lotion. A thorough once-over to slick himself up. He fell into a practiced pace that was designed to rush himself. But he stopped before long. He’d gotten close. Seriously? He was _loving_ this. Every wave of pleasure that hit him was pure. Incredible. He stood there, throbbing. Hands clenched at his sides. Not yet. He could enjoy this. Why not make it last this time? He closed his eyes. Saw Rhett again. His indecisive eyes, a bright green tonight. Until they’d darkened with lust when Link had riled him up. His cheeks that hollowed the littlest bit when he was impressed and rounded when he smiled – even if he was trying to hide it in his lips. He relived the softness of the first kiss. Soft lips. Soft beard. Warm. Welcoming. Rhett had started a wave of goose bumps that spread like a brush fire when his nails drew lines over his scalp. Remembering it sent Link’s hand back to his cock. A squeeze. A slow stroke following the familiar gentle upward curve. Stopping at the ridge of his sensitive head. Another squeeze. A clear shimmering thread of precum reached for the porcelain surface and anchored itself there. Link was panting. His vocal chords activated as he indulged in another stroke. _Indulged_. What the fuck had Rhett done to him? And how? He remembered the noise Rhett made. It followed one of Link’s own, but somehow topped it in vulnerability. All the things Link had heard Rhett’s voice do, from speech and laughter to honest to god music, and that sound was brand fucking new. And by far the most beautiful. The sexiest. The one he wanted to hear again and again. And interwoven with his name. He’d felt Rhett’s desire in his grip on Link. The fingers in his hair, the hand just above his ass. And he’d felt the growing bulge against him. The uncontrollable, undeniable hunger of Rhett’s body for Link’s. Link had mastered a slow and steady pace on himself, still avoiding his sensitive head. And the thought of Rhett’s erection sent him over . . . uh . . . no . . . sent him . . . farther. He hadn’t cum yet, the pleasure was still building. It had never . . . this was more than . . . this was new. _Fuck_. Link cried out. Hit an embarrassingly high pitch. Let himself fall into a long drawn out wavering moan. Held himself up with his other hand on the sink. Later he’d marvel at his lack of regard for the structural integrity of the thing. He was lucky he didn’t pull it out of the wall. Everything built. Muscles tightened, knees threatened catastrophe, and his hips even lurched forward. Repeatedly. Too wrapped up to push his glasses back up his nose, they finally fell from his sweating face and clattered into the sink. Oh, shit, don’t. Don’t cum on your glasses. He grabbed them and tossed them aside onto the toilet tank before catching himself on the edge of the sink again, throwing his head back, and practically howling Rhett’s name as his pleasure reached what _had_ to be a genuine peak. He repeated Rhett’s name in every strangled pant as his balls emptied. Powerful spurts he’d never dealt with before hit the spigot and the wall behind it instead of landing dutifully in the basin. He couldn’t tell if this orgasm was longer by its own nature, or if he’d extended and intensified it by imagining that Rhett was doing the exact same thing at this very moment . . . in a magical synchronicity that, if isolated, would sound like an obscene chant of “Rhett! Link! Rhett! Link! _Rhett! Link!_ ”

Link’s sigh of satisfaction was interrupted with a post orgasm shiver. Once his breathing returned to normal, he reached out to run the water. About halfway through more of a cleanup than he’d anticipated, he looked over to see that his glasses had missed the toilet tank.

Link’s mind had developed a thick iron shield of protection and, as such, would not allow him to realize that the reason this new realm of pleasure was unlocked for him was that Rhett wasn’t just filling a void. He was replacing subconsciously cycled memories of other sounds, sights, and smells. Promising pleasure instead of pain. Link’s mind had long passed the hard work of whittling those memories down to a white noise over which other fantasies could be heard, so it wasn’t about to call any of it to consciousness just to show Link what had happened . . . but Rhett had introduced Link to a backing track of silence.

Link didn’t dream that night. He wasn’t quite ready yet.


	12. Bowling

Rhett was excited. Spent too long on his hair and then a little bit longer. He changed shirts twice. Green was too obvious of an attempt to highlight his eyes. Gray would show pit stains if they bowled any more than one game. A dark purple polo. Light jeans. Not too tight. He was prepared for Link not to be ready for anything intimate. But preparedness and hope stubbornly coexisted, and he’d . . . groomed. Just in case. It had been quite some time, so it spurred his excitement, but simultaneously reassured him that Link was well worth the wait – however long that wait might be. He didn’t know the full extent of Link’s trauma, and to be honest he wasn’t sure he wanted to, but there was a very real possibility that he wouldn’t get a second chance if he rushed things. He grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone, and headed for Link’s apartment building ready for a night of bowling, questionable food, maybe a beer, and if he was lucky, another sweet and savory goodnight kiss.

When Link trotted out of his building, Rhett looked up from his phone.

“There’s an Uber on the way, the alley’s . . . uhh too far to walk.” He didn’t need the sly smirk to tell him he’d done a bad job at hiding how stunned he was by Link’s appearance. That black shirt was too tight. It struggled to contain broad, angular shoulders. And its color teamed up with dark hair and dark framed glasses to create the breathtaking illusion that those sparkling blues were distant lighthouses, offering a grounding glimpse of humanity in the darkest of lonely nights. His dark jeans were a bit on the tight side too . . . and . . . “Are those women’s jeans?” _Shit!_ He asked that out loud. Why, Rhett? Why?

“Well . . . it’s easier to find a good fit in . . . is it really that obvious?” Link looked down blushing.

“I dunno if I’m the best judge of how obvious they are . . . I kinda doubt everyone looks as hard as I just did.”

Link looked up at Rhett, that damn smirk reinstated, “Yeah?”

“Just bein’ honest.”

The Uber arrived and they climbed into the back seat. Link first. Wow. That’s some view. Bowling, Link said. Jerk. Oh, sure. That sounds fun. A nice long night of ass-gazing and keeping his hands to himself. Well, maybe. Did he have to let Link make _every_ initiating move?

Their driver respectfully kept quiet and minded her own business after a brief greeting and explanation that she could change the climate control settings if they wanted. For a couple minutes, the ride was quiet, save for low-volume 80s hits.

“So, there’s a strip mall right by the bowling alley. We can grab a quick bite before or after if you want something decent. Not that the alley’s food is terrible, it’s just . . . well it’s bar food. Greasy, cheap, and dangerous if you’ve got an ulcer.” Rhett chuckled.

“No ulcer. I think I could go for some wings.” Link smiled, but fidgeted. Was he nervous? Rhett wondered if putting a hand on his knee would help or hurt. But he wondered for so long that the option expired into guaranteed awkwardness. The ride stayed quiet.

At the alley, Rhett paid for shoe rental and two games, assuming they’d do at least that, and he could always pay for a third if they were up for it. On the way to their lane, he smiled when he saw where they were headed, “I love the lane at the very end!” . . . No response. “Link?” He turned around. Link was . . . at the bar. Sneaky. Rhett would have paid for it all, but he also would’ve let Link pay for the food if he’d insisted. He didn’t have to sneak off so early. Rhett wasn’t hungry yet. And Link didn’t know what he wanted. But if he were honest with himself, he’d eat whatever landed in front of him whenever it was there. He set to work, entering their names into the scorekeeping computer.

‘Rhett’

‘Blue’

“Hey.” Link startled Rhett from right behind him.

“Hey, Link, what’d ya get?”

“Beer.” Link passed one cup and sipped from his own. Rhett took it with thanks, but set it untouched on their lane’s table. Maybe in a bit.

Rhett wasn’t clear on how it was possible for bowling shoes to look adorable on someone, but he settled for appreciating it rather than seeking out answers. The first game flew by. Rhett couldn’t get enough of watching Link. His form was perfect. Planting his left foot firmly as he’d lunge to release the ball, kicking his right leg behind him and to the left, sometimes leaving it to float in the air as he watched what came of his shot, and other times letting that right toe come to a rest on the ground. His tight clothing left little to the imagination and Rhett took every opportunity he got to take in Link’s figure. Masculine in his broad, toned shoulders and back. Ever so slightly feminine in his delicate slim hips. And even his childlike celebratory dances that manifested simultaneously in his shoulders and hips held a unique charm. They fell into a cozy rhythm of alternating compliments and playful competitive trash talk, but when the first game was over, Link had won by nearly forty points. He taunted Rhett and stuck out his tongue which was so distracting that Rhett almost missed Link say that he’d taken a bowling class in college.

“Hey, woah, what? You stacked the deck! Maybe next time we should play basketball and see how you measure up next to me!”

Link giggled and skipped off towards the bar. Rhett cleared the scoreboard and took a sip of his half-empty beer. He wasn’t actually angry. He was delighted to be watching Link enjoy something he was good at and share it with Rhett. And secretly hoped Link was taking advantage of the opportunity to check out his ass too.


	13. Mkay

Link made his way back to their lane, full beer in hand, blushing at Rhett’s smile.

“Okay, you ready to get trounced again?”

“Ready to watch you try, buddyroll.”

Link’s throws got sloppier as his focus wavered and Rhett pulled ahead. Rhett’s celebrations were booming and made Link giggle. His gutter balls also made Link giggle. All that giggling made Link have to pee halfway through their second game. He snuck up behind Rhett while he was picking up his ball and smacked his ass. Rhett turned quickly, obviously surprised.

“Gotta pee . . . wanna help?”

Rhett chuckled, “Help?”

“Yeah. Wanna holdit fer me?”

“That’s okay, I’ll sit tight here and just . . . hold the balls.” Link giggled again. Rhett was hilarious. And he kept such a straight face. Didn’t even smile. Link peed for a _while_. On his way back to the lane, he stopped at the bar for a third time.

The bartender spotted him and raised an eyebrow. “Same thing again?”

“Yep!”

The bartender was quick. It was probably less than sixty seconds before he slid Link a beer. And a shot of vodka. Link downed the shot, dropped a ten on the bar, grabbed his beer, and headed back to Rhett. He looked . . . almost bored. Had Link been in the bathroom too long? Poor Rhett, probably thinking this whole date was gonna end with nothing but a bittersweet kiss. But Link was ready. Loosened up in the best way he knew how. Pride spiked his stride with a swagger as he walked over to Rhett and sat in his lap.

“Oof!” Rhett caught Link by the hips. Such big strong hands.

“Hi!” Link smiled at his giant.

“Hey . . . and here I was about to call you a lightweight.”

Link giggled, “What?” He took a sip of his beer. His thumb was wet.

“Link . . . you’re spilling– get up.” Link stood on barely obedient legs “What did you eat today?”

“Ummmmmm . . .”

“C’mon, let’s go get some food.”

“Mkay!”

“Leave the beer.”

“Mkay!”

Link leaned on Rhett with a goofy smile all the way to the bar. Rhett was so solid and sturdy. Just what Link needed. He chuckled to himself and licked his lips. They were numb. Cool. He licked them again. And again. They stopped at the bar and the bartender turned away. Link felt more than heard Rhett’s grumble. Like the purr of a jaguar. Mmmm. Link’s eyelids were heavy. The bartender turned around with a beer and a shot, slid them both to Link, and spoke with exaggerated articulation as though Link were a child.

“This is the last round I’m gonna serve you tonight, bro, you’re lookin’ kinda done.”

“Mkay!” Last round, better make it count! Link reached for the vodka. And it lifted right out of his hands. Wha– oh, YES! Rhett’s gonna do a shot! “Woo!”

“Okay, y’know what, I think we’re good.” He’s not shooting it . . . Rhett paid the bartender and pulled Link away from the bar.

“But you said food!” Link’s tummy felt ugh.

“Yeah, I did. We’re just gonna eat at your place.”

“Can we order pizza?” Pizza sounded really, _really_ good right now.

“Yes. Get your shoes on. Meet me outside.”

Laces. Nausea. Drop off the bowling shoes – the bartender dealt with those, right? Pretty boy outside. Nice hair. Chatty Uber. This is it. Home. With Rhett. Quiet Rhett. Something about pizza? Key, key, no . . . this one.

“You gonna order a pizza?”

“I did. In the Uber. It’s on the way.”

“Doesit . . . izzit _extra sausage?_ ” Link grabbed at the hem of Rhett’s shirt and lifted. But his shirt was so heavy. Unrealistically heavy for a shirt. Once he focused his vision – oh _shit_ where were his glasses?! – oh, it’s fine, he’s wearing them. It wasn’t the shirt that was heavy. It was Rhett’s hands.

“Link, stop.” Link did.

“But . . . I thought you wanted –”

“Stop! I don’t want anything from you right now. Except to get some bread in that stomach and get you rested.”

“Psshhh!” Link spit more than he scoffed. He’d giggle about that later. This was important, “That’s not how a good date ends!” He leaned in Rhett’s general direction. Those big strong hands caught him by the shoulders.

“Link!”

“What?! _Ow_ , you’re holding me too tight!” Rhett eased up and rubbed his hands over Link’s shoulders. It felt amazing. Link hummed in delight and looked up to see Rhett’s eyes watering. What happened?

“Link, listen to me carefully.”

“Okay . . .” Rhett sounded so serious. Had Link done something wrong? Rhett’s pained expression had a slight sobering effect on Link. Shit. They left before they finished their second game. Link had gotten too trashed too fast. He’d just meant to take the edge off so he could let Rhett . . . take the night where he wanted it to go. But maybe the evening was salvageable. He was still here, after all . . . and pizza!

“You are very special. And so handsome. And funny. And I love spending time with you so much, Link . . .”

Whoa, Rhett. Do we think maybe that the second date is a little early for a proposal? Link chuckled to himself. He was sure it wasn’t that. That was ridiculous! Right? Why does he look so serious?

“. . . But I refuse to get into a relationship with another alcoholic. Even if it is you.”


	14. Tossing

Rhett couldn’t sleep. Although, Link’s couch wouldn’t exactly have been a first class ticket to dreamland even if he hadn’t been drowning in thought. But he cared too much to leave. Link could wake up at any point to throw up. He could trip in the dark. He could pass out and hurt himself if he was dehydrated enough. And come morning, there’d be more good reasons for him to be here. But he wasn’t about to spend the night in Link’s bed with him. Not _this_ night. Certainly not as their _first_ night sharing a bed. This couch and a sore back had been his inevitable doom since he stepped into this apartment. Since he’d said some stupid shit to Link. Well, not stupid . . . honest. But admittedly, poorly timed and apparently misleading. He should have waited until Link’s head was clear before explaining his intolerance for heavy drinking. And his own head, for that matter. He’d been so saturated with emotion. He stood by what he’d said. Rhett couldn’t be with Link if last night was a habit. Or turned into a habit. But something about his tone or how he’d phrased it . . . Link had looked like he’d just been diagnosed with a fatal disease. Obviously convinced that Rhett was leaving him right then and there. Rhett turned from his back to his side. Images of the evening flashed through Rhett’s mind yet again. Link pawing at Rhett’s shirt with a wide triumphant grin as an eerie, incongruous tear fell. The sheer confusion on his face when Rhett stopped him. His face in the moment Rhett _hurt_ him. Initially, Rhett was holding Link by the shoulders to keep him steady. But once that contact was made, Rhett had just slipped into using it to communicate. Get Link’s attention. His focus. It probably wouldn’t have been too rough if Rhett hadn’t been so damned upset.

The low point of the evening by far, was Link’s reaction to Rhett saying he wasn’t about to let himself be involved with an alcoholic again. This was what replayed itself so frequently and vividly in Rhett’s mind that sleep eluded him. Link had frozen. The sway in his stance suddenly gone, eyes wide, and jaw slack. And Rhett – captivated by Link’s eyes even then – saw tears well up, overflow, and fall down Link’s face, off his jaw, and onto his shirt without the man blinking, moving, or making a sound. It was haunting. And Rhett regrets not hugging him and holding him in that moment. Regrets it so much, he violently changes positions on the couch again just to give the energy of his frustration somewhere to go. When Link finally started sobbing, which wasn’t pleasant either, he rambled through the sobs. Incoherent stuff with enough words making it through to understand. “Sorry.” “Mistake.” “Please.” “So sorry.” “Nervous.” “For _you_.” “Sorry.” Rhett turned over again.

They’d sat there and eaten pizza. Nothing but the sound of chewing and the occasional sniffle. Link went the rest of the night without looking Rhett in the eyes. Was that right? God, what a fucking mess. Rhett just had to let the poor boy stew in consequence to make sure his point stuck. Even when Rhett’s stubborn approach cracked and he’d said he’d sleep on the couch to make sure he’d be here if Link got sick, the only response was a whimpered, 'okay'. He rolled over again, pulling his knees up this time.

If Rhett was honest with himself, he was here because he couldn’t leave on that sour a note. But holding that note all night long, while he waited for a sober breakfast to patch the damage and clear the air, might just kill him. Or at least his back. He changed positions again.

Some irritation crept back into his mind as a pang of discomfort made him wince. Why the fuck shouldn’t he be able to demand that Link not pull shit like that? He was happy to be patient and accommodating. He did his best to ease Link’s anxiety and make him feel safe. And here he was breaking his back to protect Link from himself in case tonight's decisions backfire, and Rhett takes one moment to protect _himself_ , and now what? He feels like complete shit. How oddly familiar. His alcoholic ex had been stuck in a self-destructive spiral that Rhett had put all his energy into pulling him out of. It had taken Rhett over a year to realize he’d gone from lover to caregiver and wasn’t getting anything in return. Link had gotten sloppy drunk _for Rhett_. No . . . worse. He’d gotten sloppy drunk so he could handle sharing intimacy with Rhett. Even considering the circumstances, it was hard to pretend that didn't hurt. Was Rhett really right for Link? Or was he Link’s problem? Is it too early to tell? When is too early? He’d found too late once before . . . and didn’t want to again. He curled into a ball.

He wishes he could blot out that miserable image. Link frozen in shock, crying like a statue instead of a human. He hated himself for causing that. He hated his ex for the baggage he now carried. Seems the only person he couldn’t hate was Link.

He stretched out and draped his legs over the arm of the couch.


	15. Trust

Link jolted awake, throwing his arms out to catch himself from a fall he’d dreamed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, trying to remember where he just was. He’d been at the bottom of a rocky cliff by the ocean, tide coming in fast. Rhett was there. At the top of the cliff. He’d thrown Link a rope. Yelled for him to climb. He did, but exhausted himself before he was even a third of the way up. Waves crashed beneath him. Link had shouted up to Rhett,

“I can’t climb anymore, I’m tying the rope around my wrist! Pull me up!”

“Don’t! You can’t do that! Climb! I’ll pull but you need to climb!”

Ignoring Rhett, Link tied the rope around his wrist. Rhett looked panicked in the vertical distance. Tried to pull Link up. Link assisted by using what parts of the cliff he could as footholds, but slipped. It was a short fall to the end of the rope’s slack but enough to break or dislocate his wrist. The pain was vivid. He could hear Rhett yelling at him. He looked up to see his unrealistically mangled hand and wrist, and fainted. He then had a third person view of his unconscious body dangling from the rope, his damaged hand slipping out of the loop. He returned to his own point of view the second his hand was free and felt the plummet in the churn of his stomach and the race of his heart.

He opened his eyes again. It felt like he should have been able to hear them creak. He needed water. He shuffled out of his bedroom in nothing but his boxer briefs, contemplating the events of the night before.

“Whoa, hey . . . wow.” Link jumped. Rhett was right there on Link's couch, averting his eyes. Despite the startle, Link was smiling.

“You’re still here!”

“I told you I was staying . . . just in case . . . you know you’re almost naked, right?”

“Rhett, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be . . . it’s a great body, I just uh . . . wanna make sure you’re comfortable.”

Link snickered, “I mean about last night. Honestly, all I meant –“

“This . . . could be a pretty long and complicated discussion. Why don’t you go put some clothes on so I can hear you, and we’ll clear this up over breakfast.” Link’s heart sank into his knotted stomach. That sounded suspiciously like ‘We need to talk,’ which he knew was a classic precursor to a return to single life. The concern must have shown in his face. Rhett smiled softly and reassured him, “I’m sure we’ll be fine, there are just some things that need to be brought out into the open.”

“Okay, because I really –“

“Seriously.” Rhett’s eyes raked over Link’s exposure, “I can’t hear a single word that’s coming out of your mouth right now.”

Link’s face heated up and he didn’t hold back a smirk.

Later, the two fully clothed men sat at Link’s small round dining table eating a very serious meal of cereal.

“. . . and usually even when I DO drink, it’s just a couple beers.”

“I get that. And I wasn’t calling you an alcoholic. I just had to let you know where I need to draw a line.”

“Totally understandable. I’m so sorry you were stuck in that cycle, Rhett. I may still be learning about you, but I can see how that would be a hard pattern for you to back away from. I kinda think the reason last night happened was me not wanting you to have to take care of me.” Rhett raised an eyebrow and gave a humorless smirk. “I mean . . . I wanted to . . . take care of you.”

“Take it from someone who learned the hard way, Blue. Taking care of someone at your own expense is worse than breaking up with them on the spot. Just trust me to be patient, will you?”

“I trust you.”

Link did trust Rhett. But he also cared for Rhett. A lot. As he and Rhett finished their cereal in a mostly comfortable silence, Link worked to think of something to end this unusual extended date on the best possible note, proving to himself that he was worthy of Rhett, and proving to Rhett that one bad night wasn’t going to send him into an unpleasant spiral of moping and negativity. For perhaps the eighth time, Link noticed Rhett lean this way and that, carefully adjusting his back, and allowing a quiet rumble to bubble up over his vocal chords.

Link smiled. Now there’s an idea. He sipped milk from his bowl and his cope-savvy mind set to work on designing a new system:

I trust Rhett.

Just because I trust Rhett doesn’t mean I don’t need to communicate.

I am in charge of my own comfort.

There is no rush.

There is no obligation.

No one step is guaranteed to lead to another.

The series of facts came together to weave an ironclad safety net. He thought through them each a second time, held them to the light, examined them for cracks, and saw only quality parts. Ready to be assembled into his very own set-it-and-forget-it tranquility. And with that in place, it was time to get down to business. His boyfriend needed a back rub.


	16. Revelation

Rhett watched Link deposit their bowls into the sink as he slowly and carefully stood from the table. Link turned back and saw the process.

“Back bothering ya?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you take off your shirt?”

Rhett paused in shock, “Well, I’m not sure the shirt is the culprit . . . but I guess I do owe you after this morning . . .” He winked at Link. Eh . . . kinda.

“Okay, I’m gonna overlook the fact that you can’t wink, because watching you try is too much fun . . . but I’m serious,” Link sauntered towards Rhett, “take your shirt off.”

Rhett locked eyes with Link, pulled his shirt up by the hem and stopped with a weak groan of pain about halfway through the process, losing eye contact. Link reached up and helped finish the process, needing to rise to his tiptoes. Rhett looked down at Link, face and neck hot, hair certainly unkempt, and torso bare. Feeling vulnerable from above him, which was unexpectedly comfortable for a concept so novel. Link took the hand of Rhett’s that didn’t have his shirt in it, and led him to the bedroom. At about the threshold, Rhett resisted the gentle pull.

“Link, I – are you –”

“Rhett,” Link turned to make solid confident eye contact, “do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Rhett . . . wasn’t lying. There are so many kinds of trust in this world. He trusted Link in some ways. Was letting him have control . . . for the moment. But he wasn’t sure if he trusted Link to take care of _himself_. And maybe he shouldn’t after last night. Not yet. He certainly wasn’t complaining about the topless journey to Link’s bedroom, but if Link still thought this date needed to end in a way he wasn’t comfortable with for Rhett’s sake . . .

“Lie on your stomach.” It clicked, and Rhett smiled. He was in for a back rub. He carefully laid out on Link’s bed as he heard Link patter off toward the bathroom and return just in time for Rhett to settle into position. Arms at his sides, head turned to the left, breathing deeply and attempting to release any and all voluntary tension from his body. It helped that his deep breaths were delivering wave after wave of the purest version of Link’s scent. Dark and richly masculine with an overarching freshness. That could have been the linens, but Link carried it on his person out into the world, and if Rhett closed his eyes, his nose told him stories of Link, the whole Link, and nothing but Link.

He felt the mattress dip as Link climbed onto the bed with him. Rhett worked to keep his breathing steady and imagine Link as he was now, and not in his next-to-nothing outfit of earlier that morning. When so much of his legs had been visible. Long and shapely, with the perfect curve to his hamstring. When the dark forest on his chest was – _not_ imagining him like that. Right. Just his brightly colored graphic tee and pajama pants that fell loosely. Unlike his boxer briefs that hugged _everything_ and really spelled out – _DAMNIT_! Rhett fidgeted.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Surely his voice couldn’t have betrayed him in a single syllable. Right? Right. He’d add that to the lie that his thoughts were being successfully caged in innocence. He was, after all, under direct orders to LIE on his stomach.

He felt Link position himself in the best way for a good massage on a bed. Straddling his lower back. He heard either oil or lotion being rubbed to warmth between Link’s hands.

Link started high. Near his shoulders. Broad passes to lay a foundation of . . . had to be lotion. Followed by more meticulous movements, where he’d anchor his hand at its blade or heel and work small circles with his thumb. Lightly, then harder, then larger circles, then replacing his thumb with the heel of his hand. Still circles at first, then pushing out from Rhett’s spine in gentle arcs like he was drawing angel wings. It felt amazing, but most of the problem was in his lower back. Link was working slowly and gradually, but was clearly migrating downwards. Rhett kept his patience, even though he wanted to beg for an immediate taste of Link’s delicious ministrations where he needed them most. By the time Link reached the middle of his back, Rhett was allowing the occasional hum of pleasure to escape. How was he so good? Maybe it’s got to do with those beautiful hands. Big and articulate, all angles instead of curves, and carrying enough energy to tremble when he’s nervous, and work magic like _this_ when he’s calm.

Link had to adjust his position to address Rhett’s lower back. Shimmying backwards and resting just below Rhett’s ass. Calm . . . turned out to be a poor assumption on Rhett’s part. Link . . . wasn’t calm. His movements were. Even his breathing seemed to be. But his dick wasn’t. Link had rested his weight, maybe fully, on Rhett after hovering for quite some time. And there was no mistaking what Rhett felt. In an effort to keep his muscles relaxed, Rhett exhaled a moan that he hoped Link associated with the massage. But Rhett and Link weren’t in touch anymore. It was their bodies that were communicating with each other. A distinct throb responded to Rhett’s noise. Rhett’s cock called the throb, and raised him a small shift in positioning. Link called the shift, raised pressure. Rhett called pressure – somewhat involuntarily – and raised a telling moan. Link called. And Rhett laid his cards on the table.

“Blue, I gotta tell ya . . . you’re probably still working magic on my back, but all I can think about right now is having you inside me. Maybe . . . maybe time for a break?”

Link froze.

Fuck. Rhett prayed he hadn’t crossed a line.

“Insi – did . . . what?”

Oh, no, no, no . . . “I just got carried away, you feel so –”

“You . . . want me inside you?”

“I’m sorry, I –”

“Rhett, stop, don’t twist . . . and don’t be sorry. You want me to fuck you?”

“You’re making me blush, Blue. But . . . _when you're ready_ , yes. _Hell_ yes.” 

“Ohmigod, Rhett, I – that didn’t even occur to – that’s fucking _hot_.”

His hands resumed their magic, but with movements that were less calculated and more organically sensual. He used more of his body weight, leaning forward. Rhett could feel his breath on his lotioned back. Warm when it hit, cool in its wake. Holy shit. This whole goddamn time. Poor Link. Jesus Christ, this tormented boy thought bottoming was his only option. Thought sex with Rhett was going to have to parallel what was done to him when he was a victim. No wonder he’d shut down in the café after seeming so interested. No wonder he was so nervous about getting close. No wonder he greased the gears with three shots of vodka back to back. _Fuck_.


	17. Mischief

Link was lost to the sudden onslaught of imagining what it would feel like to be inside his giant. His mind raced with a blur of thoughts that were all slightly poorly formed, as a significant portion of his body’s focus – and blood – were allocated . . . elsewhere. His hands were on autopilot. Working Rhett’s lower back blindly while Link’s eyes traveled everywhere else. Rhett’s denim clad backside. The shining finish on his moisturized skin. The generous smattering of freckles. The subtle unevenness of the way his body moved with aroused breaths. Link’s hips grew impatient with him and drove forward. Even with so many layers of clothing in the way, he felt himself _fit_ against Rhett. They whined together.

“Link . . . I’m in jeans, asshole.”

The words were harsh, but the tone was begging.

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

Rhett felt Link lift himself up and dismount to the right of him. He sighed heavily enough to cover the misery of loss and the relief of respite. He was not only pressed against the zipper of his jeans, but adding his own body weight to the equation. He turned over to see Link kneeling on the mattress by Rhett's hip, shirt being tossed overboard. That lithe torso was almost enough to distract from the proud erection searching for the limit of those loose jammies. When he spotted Link’s eyes, the blue was a mere accent. Worn thin by dominating need. But it was where his dilated pupils were trained that made Rhett’s breath catch in his throat.

“Give yourself some room,” Link rumbled, staring at Rhett’s prominent hard on straining his pants.

Without taking his eyes off Link, he unfastened the button and lowered the zipper. His eyes fell closed as he pulled his jeans down over his hips, freeing himself of the worst layer of confinement. Despite the general sense of urgency, when Link began to move, it was slow. Like an animal stalking prey. It was a look that Rhett couldn’t have imagined on his sweet boy, but somehow fit him like a latex glove. Eyes dark, hair mussed, mouth open but jaw set, lower canines showing their sharp tips. On hands and knees. Embarking on a slow crawl towards Rhett. The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed, and his clavicle protruded as he moved.

Link’s site was set on the flesh of Rhett’s neck. Near his ear. That spot that’s always the first to show when he’s blushing or angry. Where the skin was sure to be soft, sensitive, and hot. He moved toward his goal, unrushed. Rhett seemed to barely have control of his breathing. Link delighted in stopping with his lips less than an inch from their target, and taking a single measured breath . . . before indulging in marrying the heat of his mouth to the heat of Rhett’s blush. A gasp encouraged him. He gave his lips, tongue, and teeth all a turn at the tender skin, snaking the fingers of his right hand up into Rhett’s hair, and his left hand over his chest.

Rhett hadn’t wasted an orgasm into a pair of boxer briefs since college, but Link was threatening to bring back old memories. Rhett brought his left hand to Link’s back, splayed his fingers out, and dragged his hand up between his shoulder blades. With desperation in the pressure.

“Touch me, Link,” Rhett pleaded.

Link pulled away from his spot on Rhett’s neck to make sure his wicked smirk was visible.

“I am.” To highlight his point and probably to torture Rhett, he grazed one nipple with teasing fingers. Then the other. Rhett squirmed, gasped, and bucked up into nothing. He stifled what might have sounded like the whimper of a wounded dog and let it out as a groan.

“Please!”

“Say it.” Link didn’t miss a beat. That order was ready to be snarled into Rhett’s ear before he’d begged. Well, if he wants to hear it so fucking badly . . .

“Stroke my cock before I cum just from you treating me like lunch. _Please!"_

Link went for Rhett’s lips. He was gorgeous when he begged. Who’s taking care of the other now, Rhett? Link bit and tugged at Rhett’s lower lip, sending his left hand down to free Rhett from his final layer of captivity. Rhett needed to lend a hand to the project – Link’s right was busy freeing himself. When Link closed his hand around Rhett’s warm silken shaft, he growled into Rhett’s mouth before pulling away to steal a glance at his prize. Rhett was a fair bit thicker than Link had been expecting. His own member throbbed almost painfully, crying for attention. While Link looked down at Rhett’s magnificent manhood, his right ear had been left defenseless. Rhett’s tongue and teeth shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. But Link let out a yelp and squeezed Rhett, milking a fresh and sizeable pearl of precum, and earning an equally undignified vocalization. Link was overwhelmed with an urge he didn’t even think about fighting. He cupped his palm over Rhett’s angry red head and swiveled his wrist in a knob polishing motion. It pulled a strangled cry from Rhett, and collected most of the precum in a thin layer on his palm. He looked up and made sure he had his giant’s attention before licking the decadent nectar from his hand. Rhett already looked plenty scandalized and had broken a sweat. Link leaned in again.

Rhett was intoxicated by the mischief in Link’s ravenous eyes. And as he was tongue-fed a taste of himself, his head swam. He whimpered when Link pulled away, but was once again entranced watching him pull Rhett’s left hand to his mouth, spit into it and guide it to Link's own dick. Before Rhett had much time to appreciate what he had a grip on, Link had repeated the process on his own left hand, and returned to Rhett’s cock.

The sounds were impossible to keep track of now, both of them all but howling, probably too loudly to hear the slick stroking of both men. But through some psychological illusion working off of sights and feelings, they heard it anyway. Link had the bright idea of tasting Rhett’s left nipple and pinching the right. Rhett was bucking up into Link’s hand, overwhelmed. Link tasted metallic salt and loved it. Rhett’s panting broke its pattern and rose in pitch. Link withdrew his fingers from Rhett’s far nipple. Gave a quick once-over with curious fingers to his shaven balls, then returned to a now practiced pace. He introduced Rhett’s nipple to his teeth. Rhett’s rhythm on Link faltered. He moaned Link’s name once or three times – depending on who’s remembering it – as he unloaded onto Link’s hand, his own stomach and chest, Link’s left cheek, and just an unnoticeable bit onto Link’s hair. Rhett couldn’t remember a more satisfying orgasm from a hand job in his entire life, and found himself in a sudden rush to get Link to join him in the afterglow. Link was taken off guard by Rhett’s hands on his shoulders – one of them wet – pushing him off of Rhett and onto his back. The wet heat of Rhett’s mouth slid like a fitted sheath over him, and this would be his undoing. He attempted to warn Rhett, but all that made it to the open air was a series of rogue vowels and exhales that were supposed to be inhales. The northward tendency of Link’s cock proved challenging and Rhett gagged gutturally. The vibrations seemed to reverberate throughout Link's entire body, and his arms shot out to either side, palms down. Which put impressive bursts of creases into the sheets when his fists clenched shut. He came, shouting Rhett’s name twice. First like the rev of a chainsaw, and then like a tornado siren.

After the temperature in the room normalized, and their embrace turned somewhat sticky, Link brought an end to the most comfortable silence he’d ever known.

“You want the shower first or second?”

“Well, we could . . . share. If you wanted. It’d save water,” Rhett smirked.

“I want there to be more to discover when I finally fuck you.”


	18. Why

Link sat on the couch with a towel draped over damp hair, Rhett’s shower the only sound in the apartment, serenity the only sound in his mind. He was unaware that the bliss ran deep enough to make him blink a little slower and smile at nothing in particular. He just sat in his meditative state waiting to be joined by his man. What day is it again? Saturday. He stroked his arms, sending all the hair into the same direction. Crossed his legs. Wondered if Rhett would be up for a walk in the park. If he was the picnic type. If he was playing at the café today.

“Hey, Blue.”

“Hey . . . you have enough hot water? Haven’t really pushed it yet. This has been a one shower place so far.”

“It was fine . . . you haven’t even taken . . . a long shower . . . for other purposes?” Rhett sat next to Link.

Link chuckled, “Okay, hint taken. I could use a recommendation for the right type of razor though . . . seems important.” Link glanced at Rhett’s groin. When he looked back up at Rhett, he realized he was in the middle of licking his lips. He caught himself and stopped midway. It resulted in an unintentional bite of his bottom lip. He saw Rhett’s eyebrows raise.

“Wow, I mean, I’ll take it if you’re offering, but I meant for . . . _self-care_.”

“Oh. Not . . . not much of a habit. And not in the shower. Since college, I guess.”

“Okay, well . . . there was enough hot water,” Rhett said, clumsily disengaging.

“Good . . . maybe it’s time for longer showers. Been making some good memories.” Link placed a hand on Rhett’s knee. Rhett’s hand landed atop his. Link was staring now. Admiring this man for whom he’d broken down lifelong walls. It had been worth every bit of effort already. And so much more was promised.

“What are _you_ looking at?” Rhett’s tone was playful.

“I dunno, man, seeing you with your hair down kinda . . . hm. We need to talk.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Did you know you were this sassy? Because I didn’t. What kind of monster have I created?”

“I still don’t see you makin’ me.”

“Admit I can if I want to, and I won’t put you through it.” Rhett’s tone was menacing. But it was a pretty fair out. And he was right.

“Fine. But only if you admit out loud why you call me Blue.”

“That doesn’t actually seem like an altogether even trade, Blue.”

“It’s not.”

“I call you Blue because it was the only color I saw in the alley when I found you. Your eyes were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen on a human being. And in the time between the moment I met you and the moment I learned your name, even though you were right there, I thought so much about you that I had to call you something. So I named you Blue. And I kept that to myself until the second I believed there was any chance you might live up to what I’d made you in my mind. Which . . . I thought was just about as impossible as those gorgeous eyes. I was never going to admit it.”

Link’s eyebrows were tented in awe. He had just wanted to hear Rhett tell him that he had pretty eyes. But instead, they were dangerously close to being not so pretty. The sting of tears threatened, but Link was able to pull back just enough to keep them from spilling. And then he remembered . . . the first time Rhett saw him, he had been crying seconds before. Yet Rhett had immediately thought his eyes were beautiful. He thought back to the first time Rhett had called him Blue. In the café. They’d talked for hours. It was so comfortable. It was so easy. So wonderful they’d called it their first date retroactively. Rhett had caressed Link’s hand. Link didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. The part of him that wanted it had wanted it _so much_. But he was scared. Rhett had backed off, and Link tried to stop him. He’d said, “Wait.” And Rhett had actually _waited_. While Link figured out what the _fuck_ he’d wanted Rhett to wait for. Rhett had put Link in control. And while Link floundered, Rhett called him Blue for the first time. It had calmed him. It felt warm. Like a house suddenly called home. A pet name with no assumptions. No expectations. No pressure. It was the moment Link knew he wanted to give this a _real_ try. The kind of try that hurts whether it succeeds or fails. Because Rhett – and the way Rhett made him feel – was worth it.

That day, he’d sung Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain. To Link. Even though nothing in the song fit him except for the blue eyes. Rhett sang it _to him_. No . . . not _nothing fit_. Everything was the _exact opposite_. Why that song?

“Rhett . . .”

“Yeah, Blue?” Rhett had a glimmer in his eye. Like he’d heard everything that Link had just thought, knew what was coming, and knew something Link didn’t.

“You didn’t actually _see_ me cry that first night . . . I mean, _crying.”_

“Nope.”

“We . . . didn’t kiss goodbye when we parted.”

“We didn’t.”

“There _were_ sparks, though.”

Rhett chuckled, “Yeah, but you weren’t ready.”

“You knew for a _fact_ we’d meet again.”

“I did the best I could, but that was ultimately up to you.”

“You sang me that song . . .”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I told ya, Blue. You’re impossible.”


	19. Lie

Rhett had spent Saturday night at Link’s house. It just . . . happened. Neither of them had anywhere to go. They sat and talked and joked and played bullshit made up games that had them laughing til they wheezed. They agonized over what movie they should watch. Rhett learned he’d better feed his horror appetite on his own time. Save the unusual humor – that he once seemed to be the only person he knew to enjoy – to be shared with Link. He also learned Link had never seen Dirty Dancing and didn’t care to. They’d decided on Thor, which they’d both seen . . . in case they got distracted during the movie. Which they almost did. They wound up teasing each other relentlessly. Of _course_ Rhett had a crush on Loki. And of _course_ Link had a crush on Thor. And that was always oddly hilarious for one reason or another.

By the time the movie was over, it was late enough that they just both went to Link’s bed. Like it was an old habit. Without query or invitation. Without objection or raised eyebrow. Of course, one or both of them may have been afraid to address it directly and have to admit that, living four blocks away, Rhett couldn’t exactly make a quality excuse to stay. Not that there needed to be an excuse . . . did there? It could pass as normal when a second date turned into a weekend stay . . . in some cases, maybe. Special cases.

Sunday morning, Rhett had showered first. He sat on the couch flipping through television channels while Link showered. He’d flipped right past the news, but emphatically clicked his way back, certain he’d spotted the words ‘mugger’ and ‘gunpoint’ on the screen. He was right. He listened to the flow of the shower, not wanting Link to have to relive anything, but remained on the channel. He was desperate for an update on this creep. Yeah, yeah, not common around here. Rhett knew that. Two victims . . . that must be why it’s on this week’s recap . . . the second victim must have been more recent. Both robbed at gunpoint. Both walking alone. Both . . . female? What? Rhett listened for a while longer, hoping for the mention of a third victim . . . or a second mugger. Both of which would have been noteworthy around here. Nothing. The story ended. Rhett stared at volunteers at the local animal rescue showcase puppies and kittens and that one weird looking bird again.

“Oh, gosh, what’s wrong with that bird?”

“Link . . .”

“Yeah? What? Was that rude? Is it a famous bird?”

“Did you report that mugger?”

“. . . Yeah.”

Rhett might actually have believed that Link wouldn’t lie to him. Might actually have thought that the police department had fucked up their job, or that the news station had decided to write Link off as a discrepancy in what could be a more interesting story, or a mugger people were more motivated to find. Because without Link, the mugger was sexist. Or maybe even a whole different kind of creep. But he’d seen Link’s face. He could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. Even his body language, as he’d left to return the towel to the bathroom. Why come out here for seven seconds with the towel? He’d either leave it, or bring it out to keep the moisture in his hair from seeping into the couch. Link . . . had _lied_ to him.

Rhett’s mind raced. _Why?_ Does he have a fucking record? Is Friday gonna happen _every_ Friday after all? Why else wouldn’t you do something as simple as report a crime to the police? And then lie about it? Unless you would get in some kind of trouble. What the fuck was he doing in that alley? How well did Rhett _really_ know Link? Oh, it feels right. Like fate. Like destiny. Doesn’t he vaguely recall going through a similar thought process with the last prick? Gorgeous eyes and a perfect body and Rhett was eating out of his hand immediately. He’d said it. He’d said Blue was impossible. Apparently he was right. Link wasn’t “Blue,” the imaginary perfect prince.

Link came back into the room and sat by Rhett. Smiling at him. Hair wetting the couch. Rhett saw his icy eyes flicker to his neck and back up, expression falling.

“Rhett, what’s wrong?”

“What were you doing in the alley?”

“That night?”

“Yeah.”

Link blushed and looked down. “I really had to pee . . . I don’t make a habit of peeing in random alleys, but I got one too many refills at the diner, and I don’t like to leave a partial glass behind. I never even got the chance to unzip. The mugger must have been waiting for someone to turn down that alley. That’s why when you asked me what I needed, I just blurted out that I had to pee.” Link smiled at the absurd memory and even got halfway through a good giggle before he realized Rhett still looked . . . angry. Link got quiet.

“You were drunk?”

“No! Just soda! It’s still wasteful to leave behind a partial glass of soda . . .”

Rhett saw no lies in Link’s face since the first. “Link . . . I’m a very patient man. But I don’t like being lied to. And I _hate_ the thought that _you_ would lie to me. Even though I guess I must not know you well enough to be able to trust that you wouldn’t.”

“Oh my god, no, Rhett, I’m sorry. I didn’t report the mugger.”

Rhett’s eyebrows shot up. Interesting. No, ‘I didn’t lie to you’ or ‘What are you talking about?’ Still didn’t yield much hope though. Not yet . . . “Why not?”

“Just . . . cops don’t . . . they’re not the help that people seem to think they are.” Link stood and walked towards the bathroom.

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” Link was almost around the corner.

“Link, two other people got mugged!”

Link turned and walked back toward Rhett agitated, “Well, I didn’t do it! Why are you yelling at me?”

Rhett stood. “If you had _reported_ it, maybe they could have caught the creep by now!”

Link cocked his head in faux curiosity, “Did those _two_ people get mugged together?”

Rhett threw his arms in the air and started getting louder and louder, “Well, shit, maybe you’re right and everyone should just not bother! Or do you think maybe five people before you already got that memo?! Congratulations, Link! Your revolutionary idea is spreading! Know what you win? A gun in your goddamn face!”

“HE WAS A FUCKING COP!” Link practically screamed. Eyes watering, face red, lip curled.

Rhett lowered his voice, “What? The mugger was a cop?”

“No, Rhett. My stepfather.” Rhett’s face fell. Link continued, “You report something like a mugging, they want to look at you, not talk to you on the phone. See if there are bruises or scrapes you didn’t realize you got. Take pictures.” Link lowered his voice, “Now, I’m really fucking sorry if I look like a piece of shit from up there on your moral high ground where dutiful citizens waltz into police stations to report crimes so that they _hopefully_ catch the motherfucker before he gets someone else, but down here at the bottom of the barrel, I just wanted to move on with my life,” Rhett stepped closer to Link, “Because do you know what happens if I walk into a police station, Rhett?” Rhett reached out to place a comforting hand on Link’s shoulder. Link stepped back, “Don’t touch me! What happens if I walk into a police station?”

“You have an anxiety attack.”

“Then what?”

“I . . . isn’t that enough?”

“Is it? You tell me!”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not done, Rhett. Ask me what happens.”

“What happens, Link?”

“They handcuff me.”

“Wha- Why?”

“Because I _could_ be having an anxiety attack. Or I could be _on_ something. Or withdrawing from something. I could be violent. They don’t know. Sometimes it looks pretty similar. So they cuff me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can touch me now, Rhett.” Link held up his wrists, hands clenched, “Feel here. Go ahead. It’s _cool._ ” Rhett reached out and gingerly touched one wrist. Link grabbed Rhett’s hand and guided him to add more pressure, and take a specific journey around certain areas of his wrist. Parts of the joint felt rough, slightly misshapen, or just . . . wrong. “Internal scar tissue, joint damage, small calcium deposits caused by imperfections left when my bones didn’t heal properly.”

“Jesus Christ.” Rhett’s eyes watered.

“You know what that’s from, Rhett?” Link released Rhett’s hand and dropped his own to his sides.

The guilt had a suffocating grip on him. He wished telling Link to stop would accomplish something. He wished he could go back and try this a different way. Or hell, just leave the damn television off.

“Handcuffs.”

_“Nope!”_

Rhett furrowed his brow. “Wh-”

“It’s from struggling to get _out_ of handcuffs! By any means necessary! _Re_ _peatedly!!"_


	20. After

Link realized he was crying. Realized he had purged himself of things he’d kept from everyone in the world. Said things out loud he never had before. He couldn’t tell if he wanted Rhett to get the hell out right now or hold him. He shook one hand like it was wet. The one Rhett had examined. But he couldn’t yet chase away the phantom cuff on his wrist that had manifested when the permanent damage had been explored by another. His chest burned. His breathing was out of control. It hissed and sounded rushed. He thought of deep breaths. Slow breaths. But couldn’t control what his body was doing. His needed to sit. He let his knees buckle.

Rhett was holding him. Had caught him. Did he almost faint? He was guided on nearly useless legs to his bedroom. He was laid onto his bed. Soft. Familiar. Warm. Rhett lay next to him. It’s okay, I’m okay, It’s over, I’m done, It’s okay. Rhett’s voice snuck through, past the tired worn mantra.

“Take your time. You’re safe.”

No rush. No danger. Just Rhett. Over the course of several minutes, flickering remnants of memories became dimmer. Quieter. As Link began to process external stimuli again, the first thing he noticed was that Rhett was stroking his hair. Next, he heard Rhett softly humming. His breathing began to calm. Eventually, his conscious mind was freed from his subconscious mind. It burst from its cage, frantic. There had been a fight. Yelling. Secrets. Misplaced anger. Link spoke with a gentle rasp from a dry throat,

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare. _I'm_ sorry. I lost my temper. I thought . . . I made assumptions. I was wrong. You scared me. For a while there, I was afraid you weren’t the man I thought you were.”

The man Rhett thought he was. The impossible Blue. Could he ever live up to this mythical ideal man? According to Rhett, he already had. But how long would it last? He was so weak . . . had built walls to protect himself, and the second Rhett prodded at one, they’d combusted.

“I wish I knew if I could live up to what you want me to be.”

“I just want you to be you, Link. Trust me. I live right up the street and I’m wearing clothes I put on _Friday_ because I’ve been too content to leave all weekend.”

Rhett brushed his hand against Link’s. Link took it in his. They lay in silence for a while. Link eventually spoke up, confessing that – while he hadn’t thought he’d been ready – saying what he said was . . . cathartic. Explaining and owning his past and his physical and psychological imperfections made them finite. Gave him some ineffable sense of control. Like naming a stray dog that follows you everywhere. It’s coming with you either way. Naming it admits that it’s yours . . . creating work, commitment, and responsibilities. But a named dog is ready to be trained.

Link talked though some of the things that his past controlled which it shouldn’t be allowed to. Including causing him to nearly miss out on his chance to be with Rhett. Link liked control. It could sometimes seem rare, but lately he’d been taking control over more of his life. Rhett took the liberty of shining some light on his trust issues for Link to see. It helped to justify Rhett’s reaction to Link’s lie of self-defense.

Link had just begun to look for an opportunity to steer the conversation away from the heavier topics when Rhett raised their interlocked hands and kissed Link’s knuckles. If casual reverence were possible, Link saw it in Rhett then. Rhett spread the kisses to the back of Link’s hand. And then his wrist. After a moment of the gesture being very touching, Link had reached a limit, and untangled his hand from Rhett’s. He scooted closer to him on the bed. Link snaked a long lean arm around Rhett’s middle and kissed him. It started as a chaste meeting of lips. Just enough for Rhett to be reminded of how perfectly plush those pink lips were. And just enough for Link to be reminded that Rhett’s beard was so much softer than it looked. Divinely so.

Before long, mouths were open, tongues dancing, noses puffing. Link gently tapped the brakes. Pulled away, took a deep breath, and then returned with another chaste kiss. He wasn’t after escalation. He was after the profound comfort of holding and being held by Rhett. The indulgent tranquility of taking the lead and controlling the flow. And of course, the complete void of all else that seemed to happen when Link allowed himself intimacy with Rhett. The temporary disappearance of work, bills, past, future, ceiling, and floor. Rhett was Link’s very own meditative state.

That being the case, it was impossible for him to have said how long he stayed grazing on Rhett’s affection, but he loved it that way, and wouldn’t check the time for as long as possible afterwards. He was sure he’d riled Rhett up, but it was a kinder cruelty than his recent instinct to kick him out immediately after the fight.

When they said their goodbyes and Rhett headed back to his neglected apartment, Link chased his loneliness away by diving into thought. So this was a relationship. A small sample so far, sure. But the closeness, the established claim to each others’ space and skin, the exceptionally incendiary conflict, the peace of resolution, and the promise that the bullshit doesn’t run deep. Intimacy was a much vaster concept than Link had previously understood. He couldn’t wait to discover more.

That night, he caught himself right before he drifted off questioning why Rhett had to leave. His queen sized bed was a choice to facilitate his tendency to sleep with reckless abandon, but now the extra space felt cold and lacking.


	21. Blues

Rhett had subjected himself to a frugal week so that he could treat Link to a nice home cooked steak dinner on Friday. When Link was on his way, Rhett set to work. Microwaving the quick and easy store bought mashed potatoes, and heating a pan for the meat. It had been a long time since he’d cooked for someone other than himself. Something nice. He didn’t realize he was nervous until the knock at the door made him jump. He rinsed seasoning off his hands and went to let Link in while the steaks started.

“Hey!” Link smiled brightly and hugged Rhett, who avoided Link’s back with his damp hands, “Smells delicious.” His voice was muffled by Rhett’s shoulder. He released Rhett and looked toward the kitchen, “Ooo, the steak smells good too.” He smirked at Rhett, who chuckled as he returned to the stove.

“Won’t be long. You said medium, right?”

“Right . . . you play harmonica?”

“What?” Rhett stuck his head out of the kitchen to see Link plucking an old forgotten harmonica from a cluttered shelf. “Oh, no . . . that was a gift from someone who thought I should learn. I forgot I even had it.”

Rhett turned his steak. When the fresh hiss settled into a sizzle, he heard the harmonica. Tickled, he snickered. Of course Link couldn’t resist fiddling with it. Then Rhett heard a melody. Bends and vibrato and control. He had no idea. It was beautiful. He turned Link’s steak. What are the chances that Link just happened to have such mastery over the one thing in Rhett’s apartment that was simultaneously the most useless and had the most potential? A crisp note scooped into a grittier wavering tone, and it gave Rhett goose bumps. He plated his steak and divided the mashed potatoes. By the time he plated Link’s steak, muting the noisy pan, the music had stopped. Link appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding up the instrument.

“Still works.”

“I heard . . . that was incredible, Blue. Maybe we should see how we sound together after dinner.”

Link beamed and stepped aside. Rhett set their plates out, and they sat across from one another. Link thanked Rhett for the meal, complimented it before even tasting it, and dug in. Rhett had used a seasoning he’d developed himself. It involved quite a bit of trial and error. He had enough pride in it that he kept an eye on Link, looking for some subtle sign of appreciation as he cut into his own medium-rare steak. The meat seemed satisfactorily tender, at least. Link chewed his first bite twice before pausing and making a sound that struck a chord between Rhett’s legs. Okay, then. He appears to be enjoying it.

“Rhett, you know how to cook a steak, man!”

“It’s the seasoning. Original recipe . . . that and only putting salt on the fat.”

“Wow. Seriously, this might be the best steak I’ve ever had. How long did it take to refine the rub?”

“At least six tries.” Rhett searched Link’s face for exaggerated flattery, but he wasn’t even looking at Rhett. He was looking at the steak.

“Damn, lucky me.”

“Thanks.” Rhett bowed his head to take his next bite, hiding a blush. Sure, it had been a while. But of all the times he’d cooked for someone else, he couldn’t ever remember such enthusiastic and genuine appreciation. The dinner conversation was light until their plates were empty. Then they filled each other in on their weeks. Nothing too exciting. Both claiming to have missed the other. Rhett cleared the table. Dropped their plates into the sink, and as he returned from the kitchen, walked right past a still seated satisfied Link into the living room. He’d been looking forward to this all through dinner.

“C’mon Link, let’s see what you can do with that harmonica . . .” He grabbed his guitar and made sure it was well in tune. Link joined Rhett on the couch, angled toward him. “Got Folsom Prison Blues in ya?”

Link raised his eyebrows, “Sure . . . do _you_?”

Rhett’s grin was wicked and challenging. “Let’s go”

Rhett picked the first few notes, took it into a strum, and looked up at Link. Link joined, eyes on Rhett’s fingers, eyebrows somehow following the notes of the harmonica, hands cupped and doing calculated things. Rhett had never thought of the harmonica as a sexy instrument. It had to have just been Link’s prowess that was so enticing. As Rhett dug into the first low note and held it, Link’s eyes rose to Rhett’s face, his eyebrows dropped, and the harmonica’s melody faltered for a single beat. Rhett spotted some extra volume to the hair on Link’s arms. As they continued, Rhett tried to focus. Tried to value how good they sounded together. Instead of keeping note of how dilated Link’s pupils were at any given second. Instead of fixating on the length and dexterity of Link’s fingers, trying to anticipate when they’d cup, fan out, or rock. He saw Link shift. And try to keep it inconspicuous. He knew Link saw him look . . . but it was worth it to catch a glimpse of how obviously hard he was. Link’s control over his instrument maintained precision admirably in his aroused state. Rhett was about to start having trouble. He worked to keep his voice smooth for the final line. Once the instruments faded to silence, Rhett set his guitar aside, assuming the need for . . . some kind of break.

“Really impressive, Blue.”

“Fucking beautiful,” Link closed in on him fast, kissed him hard, and took a trembling breath as he released from the kiss but stayed close. Combed his fingers through Rhett’s hair. “Everything about you.” Rhett had never seen anyone look at him like Link did in that moment. Something not quite as submissive as worship, not as arrogant as pride, and accentuated by ethereal eyes. Even his voice seemed to discover new territory . . . “Bedroom?”


	22. Climax

Link was overwhelmed. Had been since he’d hugged Rhett and inhaled. The sense memory associated with the distinct scent of this man was a cocktail of laughter, comfort, and pleasure. Rhett was his joy and safety. It had been a long week, and with his inner carnivore sated in the best way, there was one need at the steering wheel by the time they’d made music together for the first time. Link had never played with anyone. The exhilaration of creating one sound intertwined perfectly with others to produce something so beautiful was more powerful than he’d expected. Not to mention how sexy Rhett’s skilled hands and rich voice were. Link desperately wanted to explore how well they fit together in other ways . . . “Bedroom?”

Rhett led Link by the hand to his bedroom. The energy between them thick and crackling. They stood by Rhett’s California King which took up most of the space in the bedroom and looked right about now like one hell of a playground. They kissed as they tugged at each others’ shirts. Parting only when necessary. Bless Link’s button down. Once they were topless, Rhett bent to taste Link. A wet kiss on his shoulder. Link sighed at the ticklish fire of Rhett’s heated mouth and thick beard. Rhett journeyed south. A nip on that sharply visible collar bone. Then Rhett placed his hands on Link’s hips and went for his nipples. Link felt tiny with Rhett’s hands covering so much of his slim hips . . . but powerful as he threaded his fingers into Rhett’s hair and steered him, with such a gentle suggestion of his fingertips, from one nipple to the other. Link whimpered and reached down to open his pants. Uninterested with turning this into a strip tease, he hooked his thumbs into both his pants and boxer briefs before pushing them both down, losing Rhett’s mouth from his chest as he did so. Rhett let an “Mmmm” slip when he saw that Link had shaved for him. His cock looked beautiful like that. And longer. Shit, he was long. Rhett took a step back and followed Link’s lead. Link was still trying to step out of his unwanted clothes, eyes locked on Rhett’s body, by the time Rhett was naked. Link kicked away what he’d shed and stepped forward, pressing against Rhett. He hooked a hand around the back of Rhett’s neck guiding him down instead of rising to tiptoes. He took Rhett’s earlobe into his mouth. Sucked and bit. Their hard cocks flexing against each other at what felt like the same time. Then Link spoke quietly into Rhett’s ear, cooling the saliva on his lobe with hot breath.

“Ready for me to fill you up?” Rhett’s knees damn near buckled and the only reply he could muster was a moan. He turned his back to Link to fish the lube out of the bedside table’s drawer. Link stepped up behind him, grabbed both cheeks, and squeezed as he bit a shoulder blade with a growl. Rhett turned back to Link slowly. Landing his member right in Link’s hands. Gazes fused, Link kept a feather light touch on the dry skin, feeling every bit of him in the exploratory fashion of a blind artist preparing to sculpt something he couldn’t see. A ridge here, a vein there, large curves, that tiny corner at the underside of the head. The asymmetry of his balls, the change in texture from a glass head with a marshmallow ridge, to a steel shaft, meeting crushed velvet hanging heavy between tense thighs. He looked Rhett’s face over as he applied pressure to his taint, and relished in the unexpected jolt of pleasure that flickered over his face. Link sat on the bed and Rhett knelt on the floor, eager to taste Link again. He tossed the bottle of lube onto the bed, freeing both hands. Rhett planted his hands on Link’s thighs, and licked him from base to tip with a pointed tongue. Then traveled back down with his tongue flat and receptive. Link’s breathy pants and gasps were praise to Rhett’s work. Rhett went lower to use his lips and tongue on Link’s clean shaven balls. Link cried out and his hands landed on Rhett’s grabbing them harshly. There it is. See, Link, it’s not just for me . . . it feels better for you, too. Link tugged at Rhett’s hands and scooted back, encouraging Rhett onto the bed. Onto him. Rhett climbed onto Link. Kissed him. Bit his lower lip. Licked his upper lip. Their erections bumped together in teasing, unsatisfying doses of intimate contact.

Rhett pulled away. Looked down into hungry baby blues, and smirked. He twisted. Trekked toward Link’s most enticing curve. Rearranged his position, threw a leg over Link’s shoulders, and landed in a sixty-nine, looking at his lover’s hardness from an angle that promised to work with his throat instead of against it. Link grabbed at Rhett’s ass, pulled him down, and swiped a hot lick over his taint and right up to his asshole. Rhett cried out and dove onto Link, taking more of him at once than either expected. Both men rode the momentum of pleasure to enthusiasm, falling into a spiral of frenetic groping, licking, sucking, and reverberating sounds.

Rhett tasted like a muskier version of his scent down here, and Link fed him a dribble of recognition of how sexy that was. Link spread Rhett, pointed his tongue, aimed at the bulls eye of where the pink was lightest, and went for it. Rhett’s tight hole wasn’t easy to lick into, but upon the tiniest bit of penetration, Link could feel a muscular fluttering that was perfectly synchronized with a series of sounds that Rhett’s mouth was injecting directly into Link’s overwhelmed center through his dick. Rhett pulled off, barking a husky, “Fuck,” and scrambled off of Link, and onto his back.

Link grabbed the lube and popped the top. Rhett pulled his legs up and out. Link took a moment to admire the presentation. It was submissive and begging. Link got some lube on his finger. Rhett spoke up, “More than you think. And then a little bit more.” Link lowered a coated finger to Rhett’s quivering hole. Sunk in. He was so warm. So tight. He ignored the urge to watch his finger disappear into Rhett in favor of watching his face. Rhett’s chest heaved in a desperate pant. His brow furrowed, his jaw opened and hung for a second before his tongue went to the roof of his mouth. More lube. A second finger. Link could feel Rhett relax around his exploring digits. Watched his giant grit his teeth. Groan and shift his hips. Link crooked his fingers. Rhett’s eyes blew wide, “Fuck . . . fuck me!” The plea sounded almost accidental. Rhett’s drowning eyes begged for more.

When Link’s cock was sloppily covered in lube, he couldn’t resist watching. His head pushed past a resistant ring of muscle which clamped tight, just past the ridge of his head. Link growled and reached up to tweak Rhett’s nipples as he pushed gently deeper.

When Rhett relaxed they both sighed vocally. Then spoke over each other as Rhett proclaimed Link “so big” and Link declared Rhett “so tight.” Easing deeper still, Link finally tore his focus from where they were connected and leaned forward. Dragged his nails over Rhett’s chest summoning a sinful moan of his name. He bent down and licked the red stripes he’d drawn.

Link was stretching Rhett and filling him in a glorious sensation he never could have dreamt. That upward curve teased his prostate just right and puppeted lustful lurches of his neglected wood. Link clawed and lapped at him like Rhett was sustenance. When Link bottomed out, he lowered himself onto Rhett and paused, allowing Rhett to adjust, but Rhett suspected the intention was to keep his length calm . . . which pulsed inside him in an unpredictable syncopated rhythm. Link kissed Rhett’s neck. Trailed his nose up to the shell of his ear, amplifying the sound of a deep and barely steady breath. Both of them moved to hide their fingers in the other’s hair. Link’s words were spoken softly and evenly. The sure-footed confession meant to assure itself as truth rather than an uncontrolled utterance in the heat of the moment. “I love you.”

Link immediately pulled back, hoping to convey that Rhett need not return the sentiment. It was only that the time had come for Link to say it. Rhett pulled him back down into a soft kiss with a whimper passed between the two. Upon releasing Link’s lips, Rhett looked into his eyes and knew for a fact that it wasn’t reciprocity masquerading as honesty when he said, “I love you, Blue.”

Link’s hips moved. Out, in, slowly at first, both men moaning. Link lifted himself up for a better angle. He thrust into his love, and threw his head back, accentuating his lengthy neck. Rhett admired it, and found his sharp protruding adam’s apple a tempting focal point. Bobbing like it was playing the instrument of Link’s voice, exploring so many notes in his cries of passion. When he looked back down, his nostrils were flared, face crimson, brow crinkled in a foreshadowing of where Link’s age would show. Which Rhett promised to himself in that moment he’d be around to see.

Harder. Link’s hips pistoned, punctuating grunts from both of them with smacks of flesh on flesh. Link pushed on Rhett’s legs, folding him further and finding an angle that made Rhett gasp and howl and babble swears and yeses. Rhett closed his eyes. Turned his head to the side. Gritted his teeth. Tugged at his own hair. Link watched every second. Reached out and grabbed Rhett’s ankle, brought it to his mouth and kissed it. Rhett’s hands shot above his head, slamming the headboard noisily into the wall. He made and held eye contact with Link. His neglected, weeping cock continued slapping against his stomach at the mercy of Link’s thrusts rocking him. “I’m gonna cum!” Link was right there with him, but less capable of words, and only shouted, “Uh huh!”

Rhett squirmed and bucked as he decorated himself with streaks and splats of white. His asshole spasmed around Link, whose pounding stuttered and weakened as he filled Rhett. They cried each other’s names as they came together, reaching out in clumsy gropes, seeking even more contact while their vision was compromised by truly blinding pleasure.

They collapsed together. Unable to wait until their breathing normalized to kiss, and uncaring that there was cum absolutely everywhere.


	23. Breakfast

This time they showered together. Washing each other’s hair and bodies. Enjoying watching the water illustrate curves and crevices they’d just fully surveyed with curious fingers and tongues. They dried off, but didn’t bother to dress. They just climbed under Rhett’s covers together. Facing each other, legs interwoven. Rhett gave the top of Link’s head a soothing pet, “Everything okay up here, Blue?”

“Better than I ever could have hoped.” They smiled at each other, so content, “I don’t think it could have been anyone else. I mean, if I think about it, I wouldn’t want it to have been anyone else. But you are so good to me. And patient with me. And you make me feel so safe.”

“I meant it, Blue. I love you. I didn’t just say it back. I want to be all of that for you. I want to be the reason you’re happy.”

“You are. You’re everything, Rhett. I love you too.”

They shared in a chaste kiss. Drifted off in each other’s arms. Link first, of course. Bit early for bed, but it had been a big day.

Rhett woke to the smell of bacon. Hell yes. He wandered in his early morning trance right into the kitchen completely naked.

“Woah, Rhett . . . stay right there, you don’t wanna be near a pan of bacon without any clothes on. Learned _that_ the hard way.”

Rhett laughed, “Well, I thought maybe I could distract you.”

“You are.” Link flashed him a giddy grin and looked him up and down. “But I’m very determined to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“I’m . . . not _in_ bed anymore.”

“Well, whose fault is that?” Link raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, spatula still in one hand.

“Yours! You expect a man to stay put when he smells bacon?!”

“Um . . .” Link scooped the finished bacon from the pan to two plates already adorned with eggs.

“Exactly. And why are you making breakfast for me? In my place?”

“You made dinner. I can’t serve up anything quite as good, but this is the least I could do.”

Rhett gawked. The least he could do? He’d seen a lot less than this. From . . . others. He figures he might do the same, though. So why was it so unexpected? So foreign? Rhett loved giving others what they needed. And had been the giver in every relationship he’d ever been in. Gestures getting grander and grander to chase the rush he’d stop getting once he was taken for granted . . . usually right after the first night in bed together. Of fucking course Link was different. Appreciating. Giving back. And . . . huh. Being the first to use the L-word. Communicating. Telling Rhett how safe he felt with him, how he needed and appreciated his patience. Giving Link all the right things didn’t feel like some secret sly accomplishment he could take quiet pride in. It was . . . something they shared. An accomplishment made as a team, perfected through being open with each other.

“Guess I’ll go back to bed then.” Rhett waited until Link had both plates in hand and turned playfully, hands on hips, sauntering away.

Link sighed, “Sure wish I could smack that ass right about now . . .”

Rhett spun around, “Alright, gimme the damn plate.”

They laughed together.

Rhett got that smack.

And breakfast in bed.

His own bed.

With the man he loved.

Rhett was about to learn what it felt like to be appreciated for who he was. It would take a while longer. Because it never occurred to him that he’d never gotten what he deserved in return for what he gave. He’d be blind to it for a while. Confused by it. He’d realize he was happier than he’s ever been in his life before he’d realize why. Shame he made it to thirty before finding out what it feels like when the other person isn’t taking advantage.

But fortunately for Rhett, Link is exactly what he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting! It was a wild ride and I loved seeing all your comments and feedback!
> 
> Feel free to drop me a request or prompt for another work. :)


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